A Monster's Life
by Wolf of the Western Woods
Summary: Some drabbles about the life of Francoeur, the Monster of Paris. Suggestions are accepted, within canon pairings. Oh, and spoilers! This is going to reveal some things about the movie, so you should see it first.
1. Guardian

**Recently, I saw a movie called A Monster in Paris and fell in love with everything about it. So this is a series of drabbles about little moments in Francoeur's life during and after the events of the film. Because I dearly, dearly love the giant flea. ****I will be writing these sporadically and probably infrequently when school starts back up. Just to let any readers know, I don't want you to be checking every week when I don't know myself when the next one will be out. **

* * *

Lucille walked into the office, standing with dignity and purpose despite the hushed (and not so hushed) murmurs that went through the other Parisians in the waiting room. She walked over to a section of the room where there were two chairs available side by side and gestured to her companion to sit in the one beside her. Unlike Lucille, her friend was nervous and cringed away from the people who stared openly. She gestured again and he darted over, sitting beside her with his hands on his lap.

She took a newspaper from the table and began to read, tilting it to the side so that her friend could read too. The front page story was about the recent election of the new police commissioner, Páte, and he stooped over her shoulder to read it eagerly. She smiled at him and earned a contented hum, and then both began reading again. They were scheduled for an appointment at two and it was one forty-five; they had plenty of time. One of them began to hum a familiar tune, followed quickly by the other, and soon they'd forgotten who started humming first.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle," a voice said, startling them both into looking up from the paper and falling silent, "There is a sign posted on the door that says animals are not allowed."

Lucille looked up and saw a middle aged woman with brown hair, a cashmere shawl, and a disgusted and fearful expression. The woman's eyes were locked on her companion. Lucille felt heat coming to her face and repressed her gut reaction, which would have led to an arrest for assault. Instead she took a deep breath.

"That is too bad," she said, meeting the woman's eyes with a challenge and a calm tone of voice, "I suppose you'll just have to wait outside, yes?"

The woman sputtered a bit and rallied.

"I mean to say," she said, trying to match Lucille's calm tone, "That your pet is making some people, including myself, very uncomfortable."

Lucille's eye flamed but her tone remained perfect and polite.

"I have a pet?" she asked, looking around her, "I don't remember bringing one in. Francoeur, did you see an animal follow me in?"

She turned to her companion as she said this and met his eyes, trying to be stable for his sake. He looked terrified, his wide eyes searching behind his mask. He just blinked for a second and then shook his head hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure whether or not the question was rhetorical.

"There, you see?" Lucille said, looking back to the woman, "No pets here. Perhaps the animal bothering you belongs to somebody else."

The woman huffed and looked as if she wanted to start again but didn't know what to say. Lucille just looked back down at the newspaper, ignoring the woman entirely. She cringed when the woman made a fearful sound and walked swiftly away. Out of the corner of her eye she'd seen Francoeur smile at the lady, trying to be friendly. Some people just couldn't understand.

Lucille looked up at him as soon as the woman left and saw a heartbroken facial expression under his white chapeau. She reached for his left glove, feeling the two hands inside it as she squeezed it comfortingly. Francoeur tightened his fingers around hers for a moment and then released her hand with a purring sound that was sweeter than any "thank you" Lucille had ever received. The two began to read again, finishing the article before the office opened and their names were called. She stood and Francoeur followed her lead, stooping through the door to enter the office.

"Thank you for coming today, Mademoiselle," the lawyer said as they entered, "And of course, Messieur. We only have one more issue to settle before the citizenship claim can be validated."

"Of course," Lucille said, sitting in one of the two armchairs before the desk, with Francoeur doing the same, "What is the problem?"

"His age," the lawyer said, returning to his chair after shaking their hands, "It seems that, on a technicality, someone less than a year old cannot become a French citizen without having a legal guardian."

"I see," Lucille responded, here eyebrows going up in surprise, "What should be done, in your opinion?"

"Well," the man said, smiling somewhat now, "Since his biological parents are not an option…"

Lucille rolled her eyes.

"...a human guardian must be chosen, preferably a French citizen," he finished.

Lucille didn't have to think; she spoke quickly and surely.

"I will be his guardian then," she said, earning a surprised look from the lawyer and a questioning chirp from Francoeur, "I found him, took him in off the street, dressed him, and gave him a place to live. I think all of those qualify as the duties of a guardian."

"Of course, Mademoiselle," the lawyer said, thumbing through the papers on his desk, "If you're certain?"

"I am," Lucille answered, smiling at the happy chirp beside her.

The paperwork took her an hour to finish, even with the lawyer guiding her through every step. Francoeur had begun to improvise a new song on the nearby crystal paperweight by the final time she signed her name. But, when they walked out of that office with all of Francoeur's papers in order, announcing to the world that he was a legitimate citizen of France, Lucille needed no prompting to smile.

* * *

**Just an idea that came to me. If they brought Francoeur back to his big size permanently and wanted to employ him at her nightclub, he'd have to be a French citizen. : ) Ideas are always welcome, I do love suggestions. Oh, and I will be sticking to the cannon pairings of all the characters in the movie, just to let you guys know. I love the cannon parings too much to ship otherwise! No offense to those who do, just know that I don't want to do alternate pairings in this one. Thanks guys, see you soon!**


	2. Employment Options

**Ok, so this was an idea about what Raoul would do now, without Catherine. I have to admit, I got a little misty eyed when Catherine sank. It was like watching the horse die in The Neverending Story! But I digress, enjoy!**

* * *

The boat ride was very silent. Raoul held Lucille under his arm and she held the chapeau against her chest, tears streaming freely down her face. He had never been good at saying the right thing, at least not when it came to her, so he didn't try to comfort her with words. He just held her close and tried not to let her see the tears that escaped his own eyes.

When they'd gotten back to land the police gave them all a ride back to Lucille's restaurant, where Emile and Maud had bid them their sad adieu and returned to their own places. Raoul stayed behind to be there for Lucille. She spent her night in the dressing room, crying on the sofa for a while after setting Francoeur's things on a chair. He'd stayed with her, cried with her at times, and tried his best to show her that she wasn't alone.

The next morning he awoke beside her on the sofa, with her arms wrapped around him and his around her. He gently detangled himself from her sleeping embrace and went out to the reception hall where he'd seen she and Francoeur perform. It seemed desolate and empty without the sound of the cheerful guitar as he walked through the empty tables and sat in one of the chairs. Lucille had looked so amazing when she was singing that night, so alive. It had taken his breath away. And he knew that the sparkle in her eyes, the energy in her movements had come at least in part from the joy of performing with Francoeur. He sat down, saddened, and his mind began to wander.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, thinking, when a hand touched his shoulder. He looked up and Lucille was there looking down at him.

"Good morning," she said, her voice far too melancholy for her sentiment.

Raoul stood and pulled a chair out for her, then returned to his own. She smiled at his attempts at chivalry and sat down, sharing a long, understanding look with him.

"It seems too quiet, doesn't it?" she said at last, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Raoul said, looking down.

A few more moments passed in which neither was really inclined to speak. Then Raoul burst out, his grief finally being voiced.

"I'm a selfish jerk," he said, giving her a halfhearted smile.

Her brow kit together, but she let him continue.

"You know what I was just thinking about?" he asked, an amount of self-loathing audible in his voice, "Francoeur is…Francoeur is gone, and I was thinking about what I'm going to do for a job. You know, I don't blame you for hating me all these years now, I can understand why!"

At that, Lucille reached out and grabbed his hand, silencing him.

"You're not selfish," she said calmly, "And I don't hate you. I never did."

He looked up, those darn, persistent tears in his eyes again, and they shared a sad smile.

"You sacrificed everything trying to save him," she said after a moment, "He knew that."

"Yeah," Raoul said, now looking slightly ashamed of his outburst, "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just all worked up still."

Lucille smiled sadly and squeezed Raoul's hand, and idea coming to her mind.

"I may have an idea of what you could do for a job, though," she said.

"Yeah?" he said, looking up with interest.

"We've recently had a position open here," she said, smiling slightly, "You remember Albert."

"Oh yeah," Raoul replied, sitting up a little, "The guy that got arrested. What was his job?"

"Oh, a little bit of everything," Lucille answered, letting go of Raoul's hand, "He'd wait tables on performance nights, clean after hours, and run errands for us. Interested?"

Raoul nodded slightly, and then put on a sarcastic cynical expression.

"How's the pay?" he asked.

"Fair," she said, matching his expression.

"And the manager," he said, meeting her eyes with that infuriating, mocking expression he always used, "How well can I expect to be treated?"

"Well, the previous employee had problems with the management," she said in a "serious" tone, "But if you do your job and accept that I am in charge of you, we won't have a problem."

"I see, I see," Raoul replied, touching his chin thoughtfully, "I'll have to consider it."

"The job also comes with the apartment upstairs," Lucille added, "Albert had another place, so he never used it, but…"

"Living quarters?" Raoul said, perking up, "I'm sold!"

Lucille smiled and then gave him a questioning look.

"Where are you living now?" she asked.

Raoul was silent for a few moments.

"Well, paying for an apartment seemed so pointless when I had…" he began, then his voice cut off.

"Catherine?" Lucille finished for him.

Tears gathered in his eyes and he blinked them away quickly, putting on a brave face.

"The living quarters sold it, I said," he replied mock haughtily, "No need to pry into a man's personal life."

Lucille smiled and grabbed his hand again, her own eyes watering up.

"I am sorry about Catherine," she said, "I know how much she meant to you."

Raoul sputtered for a few moments then broke down and started bawling onto Lucille's shoulder. She cried with him.

"See?" he said through his tears, "I'm a selfish jerk!"

"You're hired!" she sobbed back.

* * *

**Ok, I promise the next one will be happy, just to make up for this! **


	3. Words Unspoken

**Ok, so this is just a little bonding between Raoul and Francoeur. Enjoy!**

* * *

Francoeur was having a relatively good day. He had begun writing a new song and Lucille had had the piano tuned, so it sounded great. The problem was, a song sounded great when you played through it once or twice. After around twenty, it started to get a little old. He still loved his new creation, of course, but he was experiencing something he never had before and didn't think he liked. Francoeur was bored.

Sighing, he began to plink notes on the piano, just so that the sound would fill the room. Then Raoul poked his head in the door.

"Hey, big guy," he said upon seeing him, "Have you seen my jacket? It's a little nippy out."

Francoeur turned on the piano bench and pointed to the chair on the other side of the room, where he'd seen Lucille set it earlier after picking it up off the floor. Raoul walked in and snatched the jacket up, muttering something about meddling, snooty females. Francoeur just smiled and shook his head.

As Raoul turned to leave, Francoeur let out a questioning trill. Raoul turned back to him, his face lacking understanding.

"Hmm?" he asked, his brow furrowed slightly.

Francoeur included a couple of gestures this time, along with another questioning trill, and his point came across.

"Oh," Raoul said, "I'm on my way to the market. Someone has to go pick up the groceries."

Francoeur made another chirping sound, this one almost sounding like and "oh". Raoul smiled and nodded, then turned to leave again. Francoeur began to plink on the piano again, his eye staring straight forward and unfocused. Raoul noticed this before he got to the door and turned back, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Do you want to come?" he asked.

Francoeur stood very quickly and stepped over to Raoul, chirping a happy affirmative. Raoul chuckled slightly and gestured for him to follow, which Francoeur did eagerly.

As they went out the front door, Francoeur wrapped his blue scarf around the lower half of his face. True, he wasn't in any danger from the police anymore, but he was still a somewhat shy spirit when he wasn't on stage singing. He didn't like it when people stared. He knew they didn't do it on purpose, but if he could hide and avoid being too closely examined in public, he felt a little safer.

"Ok," Raoul said, striking up conversation again, "So the market place is this way. You just follow my lead when we get in there, alright? I know how to handle these shopkeepers. You have to haggle, you know? Give them a low price, they'll ask high, and you settle somewhere in between. But never just ask how much something costs. They'll play you for a sucker."

Francoeur nodded, having understood about half of what came out of Raoul's mouth. That is to say, he understood the words and the general point that he was supposed to let Raoul do the talking. And he had no problem with that.

He still had problems with understanding some words in context. He only ever used French when he was singing, as the words were easier for him then and usually they weren't complicated. Lyrics were either already written and learnable or written by him and so fully understood. Even then, he had to sing the song and have Lucille write the words down for him. He picked up the language, what little he knew, by listening to those around him and associating their words with their actions. So he knew much of the language from how it sounded and felt, not really how it looked or what it meant.

He stayed close to Raoul as they came to the street where the shops were. He took in all the activity around him, and while there were still a lot of odd looks and stares from the crowd, nobody seemed to find it worth approaching him, for which he was grateful. He looked around curiously, stopping momentarily to stare into a window or two. There was a lovely little pawn shop with a great many curious things to look at, but Raoul kept moving, so Francoeur walked quickly to catch up. Then they passed by a little flower shop and Francoeur couldn't stand not to stop and look at each fragrant bouquet. Raoul turned back, seeing his interest, and called to him.

"You stay right there, ok?" he said, pointing to the grocery shop, "I'll just be a minute."

These phrases were easy enough and Francoeur nodded, waving his gloved left hands at Raoul to signify his understanding. Raoul went into the shop and Francoeur went back to smelling the flowers.

It had only been a little bit when a little girl came up and started to do the same thing. Francoeur shied away, moving a few steps so as not to frighten her. But the child looked up at him when he moved and smiled, her big brown eyes sparkling. She must not have been more than three. Francoeur hid his face behind one of the taller bouquets, knowing that she'd cry if she saw him too well, and the child did the same. She put her head behind the flowers she was sniffing so all that showed was the big red bow in her hair that matched her dress. Francoeur poked his head out from behind the flowers, sneaking a peak, and the girl did the same. When Francoeur hid again, seeing that she was still there looking at him, she giggled and hid behind her flowers again.

After a few moments, the girl looked out again, but Francoeur wasn't going to move until she went away. She giggled and then got a questioning look as if unsure as to why he wasn't playing the game anymore. Francoeur still didn't move, so she looked back at the flowers she'd been hiding behind and pulled off a small tendril of the baby's breath. Holding it between two fingers in her left hand, and trotted over to where Francoeur was hiding and looked up, smiling. Francoeur cringed, having nowhere to run to. Then, the little girl held up the baby's breath towards him and smiled again. She was a really cute child.

When Francoeur didn't move to take it, the precocious little thing reached out with her other hand and grabbed his glove, pulling it towards her. Francoeur had no choice but to go with it, else he would lose the glove and surely make the girl cry. She placed the flower on his glove and closed his fingers around it, smiling up at him again. Francoeur smiled back, reflexively, and the scarf fell from his face. Immediately his expression changed from a smile to a fearful, wide eyed look. The little girl stared at him for a moment, as if unsure. Then she pulled on his arm again, trying to get closer. Francoeur nervously stooped, knowing that if he didn't, she would just keep pulling at his sleeve or worse, cry. The girl stared at his face again, now that he was closer. Her eyes were wide, but they didn't seem fearful. After a moment, she reached up and touched his face gently, then pulled her hand back and smiled again. Francoeur just watched with amazement. The girl giggled and touched his face again, her hand exploring over the hard shell.

"Joli blu visage!" she said at last, her little voice like bells.

Francoeur smiled a little and the girl smiled wider, now pulling his glove again, this time apparently trying to get him back over to her group of flowers so she could show them to him. With his other hands, Francoeur pulled the scarf back over his face and allowed himself to be led, smiling wide all the while. The little girl pulled him to each and every bouquet within her reach, pointing to them like a tour guide pointing out fine pieces of art. Francoeur nodded each time she pointed and hummed slightly, earning another adorable smile from the girl each time. Then the fun was over.

"Danielle?" a lady's voice called out.

The little girl perked up and looked towards to sound. Francoeur did the same. A woman came out of the grocers with a small bag, looking around actively. When her eyes alighted on the child, her face became maternal and a little scolding.

"Danielle," she said, walking closer, "How many times have I told you not to wander off? And what are we doing now, bothering this stranger?"

Danielle looked at her shoes and then back up, seeming all too aware of how adorable she was when she did it. The mother smiled slightly and softened her tone, reaching out a hand to Francoeur.

"I'm sorry if she bothered you, Messieur," she said.

Not knowing what else to do, Francoeur shook his head to signify that she didn't and took the lady's hand gently, trying not to let her feel his hands through the glove. But, try as he might, his skeletal fingers felt far too hard through the fabric of the glove with no human flesh over their shells. She looked up and saw his eyes, large and red in color. Francoeur shied away slightly and the woman did the same. She got a strange look and pulled her daughter towards her, trying to maintain the appearance of friendliness even as her face began to look fearful.

"Well, thank you for looking after her, anyway," the lady said, pushing her daughter subtly behind her, "Come now, Danielle."

The mother began to walk very quickly away, pulling her daughter behind her. The little girl looked back and waved goodbye to Francoeur. He returned the gesture, smiling sadly, then turned back to the flowers. Moments later, Raoul emerged from the grocer's with a triumphant look. He walked over to Francoeur and Francoeur took one of the bags he was carrying. Apparently, though, his face still had traces of melancholy and Raoul noticed.

"What's wrong, big guy?" he asked, balancing the bag in one arm.

Francoeur just trilled sadly, unable to explain. Raoul made a troubled face, then brightened.

"Well, whatever it was," he said, patting Francoeur's upper arm, "I bet ice cream will make it better. You want some?"

Francoeur smiled and nodded, allowing Raoul to ramble on as they stopped in the ice cream parlor and bought two cones. The walk home was short, which was good because Francoeur wasn't going to take the scarf off his face again until they were safely inside the restaurant. And he enjoyed the ice cream immensely when they got there.

* * *

**I thought about Francoeur tasting sweets for the first time and this happened. Next chapter will be out soon!**


	4. Life

**Ok, so one thing that bothered me is that nobody guessed that Francoeur shrunk again. And yeah, the little "he's here!" that she gave Raoul kinda made it seem like they had suspected he could be alive, but they needed to go a little more into that. So I did. **

**Oh, and one more thing. The cover picture is not my own, but it is lovely and the artist was kind enough to give me permission to use it. Her profile is GiddyFidge, and you guys should go check her out. Thanks!**

* * *

Emile dropped by the restaurant the day after the fiasco. He still didn't think he'd entirely registered everything that happened in the last couple of days. He wouldn't believe that it had been real, accept for the newspapers featuring an artist's rendition of the former Police Commissioner Maynott attacking the monster and destroying the city. And Maud sending him off this morning with a kiss, telling him to return soon. And the fact that he was going to see Raoul instead of Raoul coming to see him. And, of course…Francoeur. So much had changed.

He came to the restaurant and knocked on the door. Muffled scuffling sounds were heard before the door opened and Raoul looked out. He was a mess. Emile looked up with sympathy.

"Bonjour," he said, knowing how out of place it sounded.

"Come on in, Emile," Raoul responded, opening the door a little wider.

Raoul and Emile sat across from one another for about ten minutes in silence, looking for something to say. Finally, Emile piped up.

"So I was thinking," he started, "About Francoeur."

"We all are," Raoul replied.

"Well, I was thinking," Emile continued, "We never found a body."

There were a few moments of silence.

"Thank you," Raoul said, his voice increasingly sarcastic, "I love to start my day with a good dose of morbidity."

"No, you don't understand," Emile said, trying to fix the damage, "I mean, the potion that created him said unstable, right?"

Raoul nodded, and Emile continued.

"What if we didn't find a body because there wasn't one to find?" Emile said, glad to finally talk through this theory, "We were looking for a way to shrink Francoeur back down, but what if it was already happening?"

Raoul put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. Emile was glad he'd at least snapped him out of his funk.

"It is a possibility," he said after a while, "But not a terribly pleasant one. Think about it, Emile. If he shrunk back down, that means everything he was would be gone anyway. He would become a simple flea again, and probably drown in the Seine since that's where he was changed back."

"Possibly," Emile said, trying to focus on the brighter side, "Or he could have just become a smaller version of the Francoeur we knew. And if he was on any of the clothes that Lucille brought back, he could be in this very building!"

Raoul looked thoughtful again, this time with a little more light in his eyes.

"It is true," he said after a while, "There were more potions in that mixture than just the fertilizer."

"Exactly my thoughts," Emile said triumphantly.

"But, if he's alive," Raoul said, looking around suddenly, "Then where is he? Merde, I hope nobody's stepped on him!"

Raoul started to take carefully scoped out steps toward the dressing room, with Emile following suite. When they arrived, he peered in the door and saw the clothing Francoeur had been wearing, still sitting on the chair. Lucille had gone out, saying that she needed some space for a while. Raoul had been cleaning up a bit, falling rather quickly into his new job, but had left this room untouched out of respect for Lucille's privacy. Now the two men carefully sorted their way through it, calling out to Francoeur and gently shaking out any piece of loose cloth.

After checking under the seat cushions, Raoul sat down, a new kind of hopelessness on his face. Emile sat beside him.

"He could be alive," Raoul said, "But we'll never find him. For all we know, he could still be trapped out there on the tower, or worse. It was a great thought, Emile, it really was."

Emile nodded sadly. The two sat together for a while, eventually talking about Raoul's new job and Emile's new romance. After a while, Emile bid Raoul adieu and the two parted ways. But both were watching where they put their feet for the rest of the day.

* * *

Lucille walked the streets of Paris, feeling distant. He best friend, a bright light that had come into her life only two short days ago and changed everything, was gone. Everything had changed again and not for the better this time. She didn't know how she would ever be able to sing her song that night.

She had insisted to Carlotta that she would sing, knowing that if she took too much time off the public would lose interest and find a new singer to favor. And it may have been a coping mechanism. Whenever Lucille had gone through difficult times, she always sang. She threw herself into her song and let her mind think of nothing else. She so desperately wanted to think of nothing else.

She passed a shop and couldn't help but overhear two gentlemen discussing the front page of the newspaper. She stalled slightly, holding back her emotions.

"I don't understand the police in this city," one said, gesturing to the paper irately, "It was a monster! That creature nearly killed people! Why should the man responsible for removing it be punished?"

"Because he caused more damage removing it than the thing did in the first place," the other man said, taking the side of the article, "And it will be our tax money that goes to repairing it."

"Look, all I'm saying is that they should give the guy a break," the first man said, sounding tired of the argument, "Not everyone would have risked their life like that."

Lucille tried, she really did. She tried to ignore it, knowing that these men were just ignorant of the real crime here. But she felt herself getting redder and redder, and before she knew it happened, she blew a fuse.

"Risk his life?!" she screamed, taking both men by surprise, "Risk his life?! He took a life, that's what he did! He hunted an innocent down in cold blood, found him at his weakest after the poor soul tried to run, and shot him down without a second thought! This is not about the damage! This is not about the damn commissioner risking his life! He was never at any risk, because the one he killed would never have harmed another living soul! This is about a coldhearted murder!"

The men blinked in surprise. The one reading the paper had cowered behind it instinctively and now peered over the top at her, shaking slightly. But she didn't stop there, no, this was far from over.

"And that was no monster that he killed!" she screamed, her eyes already pouring tears as she thought of it, "I knew him. He was the kindest creature I'd ever met! He loved music, and dancing, and he was writing a song! A song that will never be finished now because a psychopath with a gun decided he had the right to end his life! He never hurt anybody, and everyone turned against him! And yes, he was a giant flea, but that is beyond the point; he was a better person than most any human being I've ever met! He was a genius and a poet, and he was kind and gentle and…and…and…"

At that she broke down and started sobbing, falling to her knees on the wet cobblestone street. The two men looked at each other, then at her. The second one, who had been hiding behind his paper, reached out a hand and spoke gently.

"Mademoiselle?" he asked quietly, laying a gentle hand on her shaking shoulder, "Are you alright?"

"No!" she yelled, making him flinch again, "Francoeur is dead! Dear Francoeur is gone and everyone in the city still thinks he was a monster!"

The man looked hesitant, as if he didn't know what to say, and Lucille looked back down at her hands on her lap.

"Is there someone we can call?" he asked.

"No," she said, pushing her hands off the ground and refusing the hand offered to help her up, "Just leave me alone."

She walked away in a hurry and heard the two men murmur worriedly behind her. She'd had enough space now.

* * *

While Raoul was searching the dressing room with Emile and Lucille was on her walk, someone else was present that they had all lost hope of seeing again. Francoeur had been there all along. He didn't see Raoul looking for him, else he would have tried to get his attention. While Raoul had been scouring the clothing that he'd been wearing, Francour had been riding in the lace on the collar of Lucille's dress, where he'd been since she grabbed the chapeau that he'd been clinging to for dear life.

The voices around him were even harder for Francoeur to understand now, since they were so large and loud, but he knew what was going on. He watched Lucille grieve for him and tried to get her attention. She had been crying all night, or at least until she fell asleep. This morning it seemed like she didn't see anything at all, much less a tiny flea trying to wave his arms at her. He stayed with her, thinking of any way he could grab her attention. He chirped and hummed, even hissed in frustration once or twice, but who could hear a flea?

He watched and heard and felt her breakdown in the street. He trilled sadly and pressed into the lace at her neck, wanting nothing more than to give her a real, human-sized hug. She walked back home and gave no evidence to Raoul that her walk had been at all unpleasant. Francoeur smiled sadly. She was so strong.

She started to prepare her voice for a performance that night and Francoeur sighed, listening happily to her song and singing along in his tiny, flea sized voice. She had stopped to cry a couple times, earning a saddened hum from her invisible duet partner, but she kept trying. If only he could find a way to make her hear him!

When she went onto the stage, Francoeur went with her. And when she stalled, he couldn't stand to do nothing. He was struck with inspiration and jumped precisely from her shoulder to her ear. He carefully crawled into her ear, trying not to make it itch with the touch of his tiny legs. Then he began to sing his new song directly into her eardrum, the one he'd been writing the music for before he shrunk. It was finished now, in his mind, and he sang it as loudly as he could. And, to his surprise and glee, she began to sing it along with him, her pretty voice echoing through her ears. It was loud, but he didn't care. He sang with her, sang for joy that she could hear him. He sang because he was alive again!

* * *

**Dear little Francoeur! Cutest flea in the history of fleas! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Bro Code

**Ok, so this is the first reader suggestion that I wrote because it was to good to pass up, and I just have some things that need to be said. Ahem:**

**1. I by no means have anything against the Francoeur/Lucille shippers. Some of the best fanfics feature that pairing, and when well written I'm fine with pairings that aren't my particular favorite. As long as the characters remain in tact, it's great.**

**2. I know I said only cannon ships would sail in this fic, but I never said that I couldn't address the other ships as well.**

**3. I am a rabid Francoeur fangirl myself and mean no insult to the fangirl culture. I am not suggesting that anyone who supports any shipping in this fandom is at all like the girls represented here. But we have all met _those_ fangirls who have a little more, um, enthusiasm than the common lot. **

**Ok, so now that all that's been addressed, enjoy!**

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Raoul was not a possessive man. Not in the slightest. Not the tiniest, teeniest, little, tiny, ittsy-bittsy bit was Raoul possessive. So when Lucille and Francoeur became a huge success, packing the L'Oiseau Rare every night, Raoul couldn't have been more supportive of the fanboys that sprung from the woodwork. It didn't bother him at all when they threw countless bouquets at her from the audience, hooted cat calls, or tried to sneak into her dressing room. He was only doing his duty as an unofficial bouncer by throwing them out with a number of creative, if not well worded, insults. But one rumor had begun to nag at the back of his mind.

Along with the recent crop of fanboys, the L'Oiseau Rare had also developed a frighteningly large number of young, female patrons. They would come to the shows every night, cry over whatever new song Francoeur might have created, and blow kisses to him as he left the stage. Raoul had been forced to escort several of these young ladies away from the dressing room as well, one of whom even managed to make off with Francoeur's favorite blue scarf. It was on one of these occasions that he happened to catch a snippet of the conversation between two overly enthusiastic fangirls that he had just shown to the back door.

"How rude!" one of them said, the one who'd bawled when he'd said they couldn't go into the locked dressing room when he found them picking the lock, "We were just trying to tell him how wonderful his performance was!"

The other girl sighed longingly and Raoul closed the door, leaving it open only a crack to make sure they left.

"Do you think," she started saying to the other as they walked away, "If we saw each other, looked into each other's eyes, do you think Messieur Francoeur and I would finally fall in love?"

Raoul rolled his eyes, and to his surprise it looked like the other girl did the same thing.

"Of course not, sotte!" she replied, giggling a little, "Everyone knows he's already in love with Mademoiselle Lucille!"

The other girl humphed and started voicing her complaints about that situation just as they turned the corner and went out of earshot, but Raoul had heard enough.

He walked back inside, laughing slightly at the strangeness of the idea. Lucille and Francoeur? Noooooo, no that was completely absurd. He went back down the hall to the dressing room to check that door lock and heard it click, the door opening to reveal Lucille's face.

"Are they gone?" she asked, looking around nervously.

Raoul smiled again at the notion that a few teenage girls could make one of the most confident women he'd ever met nervous, then nodded.

"Yes, my dear," he said in a showboating tone, "I drove the foul wretches away. The fair princess is safe, thanks to her handsome and devoted knight."

"You're an idiot," Lucille said in the tone she reserved only for him, half way between admiration and disgust.

Francoeur's face popped up above Lucille's and chirped thankfully at Raoul. He still looked alarmed and Raoul smiled again, bowing sarcastically and returning to the front room to usher out the lingering guests, as it was closing time.

Francoeur had not taken kindly to all the attention when his show became such a success. Sure, on stage he just drank it up, but the Francoeur they saw onstage and the Francoeur they knew offstage were completely different people. Normally he was very shy with people he didn't know very well. Always friendly, of course, but not outgoing. All these girls had the tendency to throw themselves at him, wanting to hug him, confess their "love" to him, and occasionally steal his belongings. He naturally wanted his fans to enjoy his works, but whenever he saw a young woman looking at him he tended to walk the other way, for fear she was a fan. Onstage, however, he transformed into a charming, happy, and lively musician. He loved his music, loved to dance, and loved the joy of performing. And of course, who wouldn't love getting to sing and dance with Lucille every ni…

Raoul snapped his head back into the present situation, trying not to let the ridiculous fangirls get to his head. He herded the last of the guests out, most of which were of the same species of crazed teenage Francoeur fans, and closed the door behind them, humming the last song from the night's performance as he began the cleaning for the evening.

Catherine had been recovered after the floodwater receded, but the water damage was extensive. In essence, Raoul was going to have to build both her and his delivery business from scratch again. So he worked at the L'Oiseau Rare to earn a living in the meantime, and make enough for the eccentric and sometimes custom parts that he needed for Catherine's repair.

He finished sweeping the floor and went back to the dressing room to ask the performers if there was anything they needed before he went to his rooms for the night. He heard laughing from within, and for an odd reason that he never fully explained to himself, he pressed his ear to the door instead of going in to join the humor.

"He doesn't have a clue!" he heard Lucille's voice say, "Although I can't say it's been hard. That man wouldn't notice a brick wall if he walked into it!"

He heard some high, humorous chirping from Francoeur and another laugh from Lucille.

"Of course, you've been great!" she said, "In fact, come here. I've got a special treat for you!"

Raoul didn't think anything could be out of the ordinary with this. They were just good friends, having a friendly conversation. Just a friendly conversation about a mutual friend who they were hiding a friendly secret from. Because they were friends. He shook his head and walked upstairs, swearing he was going to banish the idea from his head and when he woke up tomorrow, he wouldn't even remember those fangirls!

And he didn't remember them. He didn't remember them and their silly ideas when Lucille and Francoeur were practicing their dance routine the next day and Francoeur added a spin in which he picked Lucille up a few feet off the ground, making her laugh. He didn't remember them when Lucille fondly touched Francoeur's face on her way out for an afternoon stroll as he was composing on the piano. And he didn't notice when Francoeur arranged a duet version of Lucille's favorite love song for them, which earned him a _strictly friendly_ hug and kiss on the cheek. Because _they were not that way._

It was after about a week of this that Raoul finally caved. He knew he had no real reason to be jealous, that it was just the strange fantasy of some silly teenage girls who got tired of their romance novels at home, but he had to know! So when he saw that Francoeur was just sitting in the reception hall, drinking a glass of tea, and humming contentedly, Raoul took the opportunity to engage him in a friendly conversation.

"Hey buddy," he said, coming over to sit beside him.

Francoeur chirped a happy hello and made an inquisitory sound while pointing to the teapot.

"No, I'm good," Raoul said, "That's nice of you though. Very _friendly_."

Francoeur looked a little unsure but smiled and trilled back at Raoul.

"Speaking of friendly," Raoul said, in that year's runner up for worst conversation transition in Paris, "You and Lucille seem to be getting along really well these days, eh?"

Francoeur nodded and smiled happily. Raoul was somewhat deterred by that innocent look, but went on, trying to word his inquisition carefully so that the big guy wouldn't think he was being too accusing.

"You know, I heard the funniest thing the other day," he said, laughing a little to drive in the point that he thought it funny and not actual fact, "Two of your fans were talking, and one said she was sure you and she would fall in love!"

Francoeur smiled in a slightly uncomfortable way, making a more than slightly uncomfortable trilling sound.

"Wait, wait, here's the funny part," Raoul said, "The other one said that was impossible because, get this, you and Lucille were already a couple!"

At this Francoeur blinked. Then blinked again. Then made a buzzing, humming sound that must have been laughter, based on the width of the smile on his face. Raoul laughed with him, feeling reassured.

"And that's funny, because you're not, right?" he said, trying for subtle and having the success of a freight train on a yacht.

Francoeur went silent for a moment, giving him a wide eyed look. He pointed to himself, then to the dressing room hallway, by which Raoul presumed he meant Lucille, then back to himself. Raoul nodded slightly. The Francoeur gave him a long look. After a few moments, a look of understanding came to the giant flea's face. His eyes widened and he looked back at the dressing room again, then back to Raoul. He proceeded to die laughing, the rattling, churring sound shaking his shell. Raoul laughed again with him, although this time it seemed a little more forced than even the last had.

Francoeur stood, still laughing, and began to walk towards the dressing room. Raoul panicked and ran in front of him, throwing his arms out like a rugby player trying to block and oncoming opponent.

"Where are you going?" he said nervously, and Francoeur looked down at him questioningly.

Francoeur whistled and clicked, pointing to the dressing room hallway. Raoul shook his head and grabbed Francoeur by the arm, pulling him gently towards the table again.

"No, you can't go and tell Lucille about this," he said, as the flea sat back down, still looking amused.

Francoeur let out a chirp that was clearly a "why not?" with a sarcastic expression Raoul was sure he'd picked up from Lucille.

"Because that's not the way we men do things," Raoul said, his voice lowering a little, "We have a sort of code of conduct, you know? A set of rules that all men follow. And running to tell another man's girlfriend that he just said something embarrassing is definitely on the list of "don'ts" ok?"

Francoeur cooed, sounding a little confused. Then he nodded and crossed his heart, another gesture he must have picked up from Lucille. That was as good a promise as Raoul was ever going to get, so he let the big guy go.

Later on that night, Lucille snuck up behind him and hugged him from behind, startling him while he was cleaning.

"Oh, Lucille!" he said, turning quickly in surprise.

The sarcastic, amused expression on her face stopped him dead in his tracks. She looked at him for a few minutes and then smiled, which only increased her expression's devious qualities.

"Francoeur tells me you heard an interesting rumor circulating among our fans," she said, grinning at him.

Raoul turned beet red and didn't even have the time to stammer before Lucille continued on merrily.

"I assure you, our relationship is strictly friendly," she said, giggling slightly at the words coming out of her mouth, "And, just to make sure you believe me, I'm giving you your birthday present a little early."

Raoul's mouth dropped open as she pulled her hand out from behind her back and showed him a unique, specially made spark plug system that he had been scrounging money to buy. It was perfect, she'd really done her research, and for a moment Raoul's eyes got all misty. He hugged her, told her he'd never let the fangirls get under his skin again, and kissed both her and the machine part joyously.

On a related note, later that week, Raoul had inexplicably broken into an uncontrollable fit of laughter when Francoeur showed off his new guitar for Emile and Lucille said she'd gotten it for him as a special treat.

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**Again, no offense was meant to anyone reading this or anyone who favors a different ship. This is just how the interpretation of the characters in this fanfic would react to this situation. And yes, I fully acknowledge that I may or may not be a complete and utter jackass for writing this. :D Couldn't be helped. Love you all!**


	6. Mother's Day

**This is dedicated to my mom, who's birthday is coming up soon. She is such a big part of who I am today.**

**I thought Emile and Francoeur would probably get along pretty well. They're kind of kindred spirits, both somewhat quiet and of calm temperament. I thought about how they would interact and it seemed like they would know each other pretty naturally. So here is Emile's first real feature in these drabbles, hope you like it.**

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Francoeur had been "born" in January, during the spring floods that made the year 1910 famous for its odd weather in Paris. There had been small amounts of snow in the weeks after he was brought back to his large size, the weather cooling drastically after the short, unusual period of warmth that brought the floods. During one such snowfall, Emile Petit decided to come to the restaurant for a visit. The streets were calm enough with the snow and Emile had plenty of time to stop by on his way to running errands. However, Raoul was busy working on refurbishing Catherine and Lucille had gone to visit a friend, so when he arrived it was only Francoeur there to welcome him.

Emile walked into the restaurant and shook the light snow off his hat, calling out.

"Raoul?" he said, hanging his coat on the rack by the door, "Lucille?"

A chirping sound came from the direction of the stage, and when he looked towards it he saw Francoeur sitting at the piano.

"Oh, hello Francoeur," he said, walking across the room and up to the base of the stage, "Are the others around?"

Francoeur made a high pitched humming sound and shook his head. Emile nodded, understanding him perfectly. While Raoul and even sometimes Lucille had problems with understanding Francoeur's menagerie of sounds, Emile instinctively seemed to know what the giant flea was trying to say. He'd always had a way with animals, getting along with Charles splendidly, and while Francoeur was no animal he suspected that it had something to do with it. The two of them got along very easily, both being rather introverted and quiet, and Emile naturally didn't question his instincts about what Francoeur was trying to say. They hadn't been wrong so far.

"So what are you up to then?" he asked, climbing onto the stage with some difficulty.

After watching to make sure he didn't need help, Francoeur chirred and gestured to the piano.

"Really?" Emile said, smiling, "I'd love to hear what you have so far, if you don't mind."

Francoeur hummed and smiled slightly, flattered. He turned and played a beautiful song that sounded like the cold winter day outside looked. Emile could tell that it was going to be strictly instrumental, but he thought it sounded better that way. When Francoeur finished, Emile clapped his hands.

"Bravo, bravo!" he said, making Francoeur smile and hum again.

He stayed for a few minutes chatting happily with the flea, talking of the unusual weather. Then he readied himself to depart.

"Well, I'll have to bid you adieu," he said, earning a sad hum from Francoeur, "I'm sorry, but I have to find a gift for Maud's mother. Her birthday will be coming up soon, and Maud and I are going to have dinner with her. I want to make a good impression."

Francoeur made a curious sound and stood, gesturing to Emile with his upper left hand. Emile smiled and nodded.

"Well, if you wanted to come along," he said happily, "I would be glad of the company. It's rather cold out, though, you'll want a coat."

Francoeur smiled and chirped again, jumping once to the back of the stage and hurrying down the hall to the dressing room. When he emerged again, he'd grabbed the heavier, dark brown coat that Lucille had had made for him when the weather persisted in being chilly. He put it on over his blue vest and wrapped the scarf around his face as he always did. Both he and Emile smiled and they were off down the street to the market place, the giant and the dwarf.

Unlike Raoul, who went to the market with a purpose and never paid heed to anything but his targeted shop, Emile was a browser. He stopped at windows here and there, sometimes going in if something looked interesting. Francoeur trilled happily when he saw this and they both dallied wherever they liked, the other stopping and waiting if one wanted to look at something. When Emile went into the little pawn shop, Francoeur ducked into the door after him, as this store had also caught his own fancy once or twice.

Emile poked around here and there, looking at pretty lamps and decorative dishes. Francoeur was more interested in the viola on a prominent display stand. Emile settled on a glass figure of a mother with two children and Francoeur used the money that Lucille always insisted he carry with him in case of an emergency to buy the viola. They both walked out of the shop feeling satisfied with the companionship and their purchases, with Francoeur wrapping his new instrument in his coat to protect it from the cold. He didn't mind the chill as much as he knew the instrument would.

As they were walking back to the restaurant, Francoeur studied Emile's little parcel curiously. The little statue was a pretty thing, no doubt, and they both enjoyed things of beauty, but it didn't seem like something Emile would want for himself. Francoeur hadn't quite understood the references that Emile made before, but he knew it was a gift for someone else and Maud's name had been mentioned. He chirped appraisingly.

"It is rather eye catching, isn't it?" Emile replied, his answer perfect as always, "I think Madam L'Boa will enjoy it."

Francoeur chirped a question and Emile answered without hesitation.

"Madam L'Boa is Maud's mother," he said, "This will be her birthday present from Maud and me, unless Maud already got her something else. Then it will just be from me."

Francoeur was silent for a few moments, thinking. There were several key words in these sentences that he didn't understand, and while most of the time he just had to wager a guess and hope it was right, Emile and he had a better understanding of each other. Francoeur chirped and Emile looked up with a furrowed brow.

"Which words confused you?" he asked, trotting along to keep up with Francoeur's longer strides.

With great difficulty, Francoeur voiced the syllables of the words.

"Mah-ther," he half sang in an attempt to pronounce the verbal words, then, "Boh-th-day."

"Ah," Emile said, smiling, "That was very good!"

Francoeur smiled and looked at Emile with an expectant chirp.

"Well," he said, altering the parcel in his hands to better address Francoeur, "A birthday is the celebration of a person being born. They usually have a party of some sort on the same day as they were born every year."

Francoeur nodded and chirred, indicating that he understood.

"And a mother is…" at this Emile stopped and thought for a moment as to the best definition of the word, "A mother is the woman who raises you or takes care of you as a child. Sometimes she's the woman who gives birth to you and sometimes she just takes you in and treats you like her own child. But a mother's love is the strongest that there is. She takes care of you and makes sure you know how to take care of yourself. She teaches you things you need to know about the world. She is one of the people you can always turn to and trust that she'll help you, even after you've grown up."

Francoeur thought about this for a little while longer than the other word. After a few moments, he let out a light, sing-song sound, followed by a questioning little chirp. Emile smiled a little and nodded.

"I suppose she is somewhat like a mother," he said, giving his large friend a happy look, "I'm glad you understand."

Francoeur chirped happily back and the two parted ways on the doorstep of the L'Oiseau Rare. Francoeur stomped on the doorstep to shake the sleet from his shoes as Lucille had taught him to do, then went back to his piano where his sheet music was sitting. He unwrapped the viola from his coat and began to pluck the strings, learning and tuning the new instrument. He ran the bow along the strings, as he'd seen the violinist in the band do, and winced as it made a rather unpleasant squeaking sound. Bracing himself, he tried again, and within half an hour he'd learned the ins and outs of playing the viola and was trying out his new song on the instrument. He liked how rich it made the song sound, and was inspired, adding new notes at the end. While the rest of the song sounded like a cold, sleet-covered day, the last bit sounded like walking into a warm home out of the chill. He smiled and added the finishing touches.

Later that day, when she returned from her visit, Lucille found two things out of place in her dressing room. The first was the dictionary, which was sitting open on the vanity. The second was a song, newly written on sheet music and sitting beside the dictionary. The music was instrumental but Lucille, skilled in reading music after working with it for years, sight-read it and smiled. It looked beautiful and she made a mental note to have Francoeur play it for her later. At the top of the front page, written painstakingly neatly in writing she'd come to recognize as belonging to Francoeur, was the tittle. It was one simple word, Mother. But it was the smaller words written underneath it that made Lucille's eyes fog up in surprise. For Lucille.

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**Thanks for reading, and love to all moms out there. You rock.**


	7. At the Door

**Here's another drabble! Maud needed to make an appearance, since I loved her in the movie and her relationship with Emile is frankly the cutest thing ever (besides Francoeur). **

**Also, little announcement to anyone reading who hasn't seen it yet. I have started an Official Fanfiction University for A Monster in Paris! I'm waiting to publish the next chapter until I get three applicants, but admissions don't end until the third chapter is published. If there is an amateurish style of writing fanfiction that irritates you, or you just want to have some fun, use the form in the first chapter and send me the description of your character, who should be a fanfiction writer with the traits you ant to see criticized. They will be given a place in the university! Though, I warn you, don't send me characters that you would mind me playing around with a little. It's written mainly for humor, so pain is an essential. And, if you don't know what an Official Fanfiction University is, there are two such institutions in my favorites. I especially recommend the Official Fanfiction University of Middleearth, as that was the first such fic and the original idea. **

**Ok, thanks, and enjoy!**

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Francoeur was alright with being on his own sometimes. He enjoyed companionship, but he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And after about three months with him back to full size and his citizenship request being processed, his friends weren't quite as fearful as they had been at first about leaving him alone. Life had its way of rolling on, and people couldn't stay around him at every moment. So Francoeur encouraged Raoul to begin his bicycle delivery business in the mornings, before his usual work at the restaurant. Lucille had been a little more difficult to convince, but after a while she decided that she would go across town with Carlotta to visit her aunt's family. She'd made a list of everything important in the restaurant, which she'd left on the dressing room table, told Francoeur to make sure he ate the meat she's gotten him that was pre-prepared in the icebox, and let Raoul know if there was any kind of emergency. She'd gone through that list about five times when Carlotta's pulling and Francoeur's pushing finally got her into the rented car they were taking to visit Carlotta's relatives.

While he was glad that all his friends lives were picking themselves back up after the incident his creation had caused, Francoeur found that the restaurant was terribly quiet when there was nobody there. He started humming to himself and practicing the dance moves for a new song he and Lucille were going to premiere when she returned in two days. Then he read the newspaper that Raoul had brought back with him before setting out on deliveries. There was an interesting article about telephones and Francoeur read it with fascination. There was a knock on the door just as he reached the center of the article, however, and Francoeur looked up nervously.

He'd never answered the door before. And while it seemed like a simple, every day task, it was very intimidating to Francoeur. He had no idea about who might be on the other side, after all. During the time that he'd wandered the streets of Paris, before he and Lucille found each other, he'd once seen a Parisian knock on a door in the evening. The door had opened and the man was welcomed inside, out of the rain. Francoeur tried knocking on the same door, thinking that it might work the same way, only to be greeted by screaming again. He tried not to think about that time, as it was before he'd found the humans he'd come to think of as family, but he still didn't like the idea of a door opening for some unsuspecting person with him on the other side. Francoeur wasn't afraid of people, per say, he was afraid of frightening people.

But the person, whoever it was, knocked again. This time it was a little louder and Francoeur clicked nervously. It could be something important and there was nobody else here to open the door. Finally making up his mind, Francoeur wrapped the scarf around his face and went towards the door with a look of fearful determination.

He opened it just a crack and saw a tiny woman on the other side. He recognized her black hair and round glasses, knowing that this was Emile's Maud. They'd met a couple of times, when she came to the performances, but never alone, one on one. Francoeur couldn't help but notice that he made the little lady somewhat nervous, even after Emile explained everything to her.

But immediately he could see that there was something wrong. Maud's eyes were red and puffy and there was a wet handkerchief in her hand. Actually, her entire wardrobe was wet, as it was a rainy day outside and she didn't appear to have an umbrella. Francoeur opened the door a little wider and chirped, trying to sound friendly.

"H-hello," Maud stuttered, her lungs still heaving from her tears, "Messieur Francoeur?"

Francoeur trilled and pulled the door as far open as it would come, stepping aside to let the woman in. Maud hurried past him and turned back, looking up with distraught brown eyes.

"Have you seen Emile?" she said, her voice pleading, "I have to find him."

Francoeur shook his head, a worried look coming to his face. He reached out his right glove and laid it gently on Maud's shoulder, gesturing to a chair with the left. She was shaking and completely drenched from her apparently frantic search. Maud allowed herself to be led to the chair and sat down, looking like she was on the verge of tears again. Francoeur chirped, sounding concerned.

"No, Emile's alright as far as I know," she said, surprising Francoeur with a perfect answer like Emile always gave, "It's about something else."

Francoeur chirped again and held up a finger of his glove. Maud nodded and he hurried to the dressing room, finding a blanket and a dressing gown that Lucille had left behind. The poor thing couldn't just sit there in wet clothes. Hurrying back out, he found Maud crying again, her face in her hands. He chirped sadly and walked over to her, holding out the blanket and the dressing gown. She looked up and gave him a watery smile.

"You're very kind," she said.

He trilled and gestured that she follow him to the dressing room. Once there, he left her alone so she could change out of her wet things, standing outside the door nervously. The door opened again after a few moments and Maud looked up at him. He could still see some apprehension in her face as it tilted up, but she smiled all the same. He chirred a question and she answered.

"Sure, you can come in," she said, smiling a little wider, "It isn't my dressing room."

Francoeur smiled a little at the little joke and stepped inside. He sat down at the piano and gestured to the sofa. She did as he suggested and sat down, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. When she was comfortable, Francoeur trilled another question.

"Nothing happened between Emile and I," she said, sounding a little bashful now, "I'm sorry if I worried you. I was a little frantic and not speaking clearly, I'm sure. There was... there was a robbery in my house."

Francoeur's eyes widened and he hummed in concern.

"I'm alright, thank you," she said, "But my house looks a lot barer than it used to. All my furniture is gone, as well as my jewelry. It must have happened sometime during the workday. I said goodbye to Emile and went home to find that! Anyway, the police are there now. I gave them a description of everything that had been stolen and Officer Páte said there was nothing more that I could do, so I went to look for Emile to tell him what had happened. It started raining and I didn't have an umbrella. I just got more and more flustered until I started crying. I'm sorry again if I worried you."

Francoeur hummed and shook his head, giving her a sympathetic look. He'd never cried, probably because his eyes were different from the humans. He didn't think he could cry, otherwise he would have when he was the "Monster of Paris." But he did know what it felt like to have one bad thing build up onto another until it just overpowered you. That had happened to him, and instead of crying he'd sung.

Francoeur chirped a little bit and stood, moving to sit beside Maud on the couch slowly as he still wasn't sure she was comfortable around him. She moved over to make room for him, though, and he sat down gently. He hummed and chirred comfortingly and she understood.

"I know," she said, smiling at him again, "The police will do their jobs, especially since I'm a friend of the best candidate for the new commissioner. I just got a little overwhelmed, that's all."

Francoeur hummed and smiled down at her, nodding his head. Maud looked up and smiled, a new light coming to her face.

"Are you here all alone?" she asked.

Francoeur nodded shyly.

"Well, I'm glad I came by then," she said, reaching out a tiny hand to pat one of his large gloves, "We can keep each other company."

Francoeur chirped happily and nodded, smiling. They sat on the sofa for a minute, then he got an idea and stood, walking over to the piano again. He trilled a happy question back at Maud over his shoulder and she nodded happily, folding her hands on her lap. Then he began to play.

He didn't know why, but his hands began playing the song he'd sung the first time he'd met Lucille, after she'd run from him like all the others did. It was sad and haunting, but it was his first song. He wanted to share it with Maud, as she was swiftly becoming another of his good friends. He smiled as he played the last sad line, musing on how strange it was that a monster had found so many loyal companions.

When the song was over, he heard clapping behind him and turned to see Maud with a sad but admiring look on her face.

"That was beautiful," she said, "You have such a talent. I've never played an instrument, but I've always loved how beautiful the piano sounds."

When Raoul returned to the restaurant, soaking wet but exhilarated that he'd made all on his deliveries, he heard piano music coming from the dressing room. His footsteps made slopping sounds as he drew closer, his soaked clothing clinging to him like wet paper. He realized it couldn't be Francoeur playing, though, because there were a multitude of wrong notes. He opened the door and found Maud wearing Lucille's robe and sitting on the piano bench, with Francoeur in a chair pulled up beside her. Her hair was wet but she looked rather happy and seemed to be trying to play the melody line from La Seine on the piano. Francoeur was watching the movements of her fingers, chirping encouragingly. He wasn't wearing a jacket and his scarf was sitting on the sofa behind him. He and Maud both looked up when Raoul entered and smiled, Francoeur chirping happily and Maud looking a little relieved.

"Raoul," Maud said happily, "I'm glad you're back. Do you know where Emile is?"

Raoul blinked and answered.

"I think he's still at the theater, last I saw him," he said, shaking a wet tendril of black hair out of his eyes, "He said he was going to wait out the storm. I told him he'd be there until tomorrow if that was his plan, but…"

"Oh, thank you!" Maud said, smiling, "I didn't even think to check there, I was so upset. The theater had been closed for hours already!"

She stood up and walked over to the folding wall that Lucille had set in the corner, going behind it. She kept talking as she did, obviously in a good mood.

"I have to go now," she said, the rustle of fabric audible below her voice, "Thank you so much for the piano lesson, Francoeur! I'll come back next week, like we planned."

Francoeur made a happy chirping sound and Raoul looked back and forth between him and the invisible Maud. She emerged a few minutes later in mildly damp clothing and smiled radiantly.

"Hey," Raoul said, now well and truly confused, "Can anyone tell me what exactly is going on here?"

"My house was robbed," Maud said cheerfully as she walked back over to Francoeur.

When she reached him, she hugged him happily, trying her best to wrap her little arms around him. Francoeur looked surprised but happy and hugged her back with his four arms and ungloved hands. Raoul just watched, confused. Maud bid them both her adieu and began to leave, but Francoeur chirped after her and hurried to the little umbrella stand beside the door, pulling one out and handing it to her. She smiled and took in gratefully.

"Thank you," she said, "I'll see you next week!"

Raoul had no idea what that could possibly have been about. And, seeing as the only person left in the room to tell him anything was impossible for him to understand, he didn't have the feeling that he'd find out anytime soon.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, leave me a review if you liked! Also, again, look into the possibility of being in the OFUP! It'll be a lot of fun.**


	8. Illness

**This is another fan suggestion I got in a PM. I had to do some research for this one, but I'm satisfied with how it turned out. Enjoy!**

* * *

Francoeur started to feel it late in the morning. His joints were sore and he was beginning to feel tired. But he dismissed it as stress, knowing that he had the tendency to think a little too much before a performance. It was funny; when he was actually performing he had never been nervous at all. It was the one place that he felt he could be himself and nobody would have any objections. But before a big show he would pace and tinker with the notes in his latest song incessantly, to the point that Lucille would laugh at him and send him out of the dressing room. He didn't think he'd been terribly nervous about this evening, but perhaps he was just showing it in a different way this time.

By the time afternoon rolled around, he knew something was wrong. His joints were itching and painful now, in addition to the fatigue. But he didn't want this to affect the performance so he hid his symptoms. He could tell Lucille about it tomorrow.

Performance time got closer and Francoeur made his way backstage. He liked watching the patrons come into the restaurant. People were interesting, each one so different from all the others. But tonight he couldn't enjoy it from his usual place, as his leg joints were really beginning to bother him. He just needed to sit down for a little while, then he'd be fine. Or at least that's what he told himself as he limped back to the dressing room.

* * *

Lucille was humming happily, preparing herself for the show that evening. It had been almost six months since Francoeur had become a part of her show and her life, and now Lucille wondered how she ever got by without him. He was a musical prodigy; he glanced over the music she'd used before his arrival and improved it in a matter of seconds. In addition to that, he had filled a void in her life that she didn't even realize was there until he came. He was her confidant, her duet partner, and her best worldly friend.

Francoeur walked into the dressing room as Lucille began to put on her makeup for the performance. She smiled and spoke to him, still facing the mirror.

"Fangirls beginning to arrive?" she asked, her voice laced with humor.

Francoeur hummed a quiet affirmative and Lucille turned to look at him. Something was not right.

Francoeur looked exhausted. His eyelids were drooping down over his eyes and he sprawled into the couch. Lucille stood and went over to him.

"Francoeur?" she asked, taking his face in her hand, "Are you alright?"

Francoeur trilled lightly, a sound that usually meant yes, but it was too weak to mean he was well.

"Francoeur, don't lie to me," she said, putting her other hand on the other side of his face.

Francoeur hummed a little apology and shook his head.

"No, you don't feel alright?" she asked, looking into his tired red eyes.

Francoeur hummed the affirmative to her question and her heart sank. She moved to the small trunk she had behind the folding wall and took out a blanket, then put it over Francoeur. She took his face in hand again to make sure he understood her and spoke.

"I'm going to go and tell Carlotta that we won't be performing tonight," she said, "I will be right back."

Francoeur hummed sadly, probably regretting that the show had to be canceled, but nodded. She smiled at him and hurried out of the room, running to find her aunt. Carlotta was already out in the reception room, unfortunately, tending to the guests. Lucille braced herself and walked out towards her, immediately met with at least six adoring fans getting in her way. She pushed her way through them, apologizing half-heartedly, and made her way to Carlotta.

"Oh, hello dear," Carlotta said when she saw her, looking somewhat unsure about why she was out so close to performance time, "Is everything alright?"

"No," Lucille replied, "Francoeur isn't feeling well. We're not going to be able to perform tonight."

There was a gasp from the nearby fans who heard what she said and they scattered, probably to tell the rest of the restaurant. Wonderful. At least Carlotta wouldn't have as much work to do convincing them to come back another time.

"Are you sure?" Carlotta asked, though her expression said she already knew the answer.

"Yes," Lucille said, looking regretful but firm, "He's really under the weather."

Carlotta nodded and patted Lucille's arm with her hand.

"Ok then, dear," she said, "You just go take care of him. I'll take care of the customers."

Lucille nodded gratefully and hurried back to the dressing room. She found Francoeur sagging down the sofa so she helped him adjust to where he was lying on his side. He curled up his legs to his body so that he could fit on the little sofa, wincing slightly at the motion. Then he made a miserable little humming sound and Lucille began to panic. She didn't know what to do! What diseases affected a flea in the first place? She didn't even know what was wrong, much less what to do for him.

Getting an idea, she stroked Francoeur's face again and told him she was leaving for a few minutes again. He trilled in response and she pulled the blanket over his shoulders, pulling out another afghan to cover his lower body. Then she ran from the dressing room. A few steps out the door she collided with Raoul, who was running in the opposite direction. Smiling gratefully, she grabbed his jacket and pulled him up, brushing him off as she spoke.

"There's something wrong with Francoeur," she said, the fear starting to show in her voice.

"I know, Carlotta told me," he said, taking her hands in his, "I'm going to go and get the professor. He'll be able to help."

Lucille could have kissed him. In fact, she did, and then sent him running for his bicycle, as Catherine was still out of commission. Hurrying back to the dressing room, she grabbed the chair from the vanity and set it beside the sofa, near Francoeur's head. He hummed inquisitively when she sat down and she began stroking his face again gently.

"It's alright," she said softly, earning a small, contented trill, "Raoul and the professor will be here soon, and you will be just fine."

* * *

By the time the professor and Raoul arrived an hour and a half had passed. The professor had a little truck and drove them both back to the restaurant, recognizing the urgency of the situation. Raoul led the professor back to the dressing room and they walked in to see Francoeur lying on the couch, wrapped in what looked like three different afghans, and Lucile sitting at his head humming a song to him. She looked up when they entered with a grateful expression, her eyes brimming with worry. Raoul walked over to her and knelt beside the chair, putting an arm around her waist.

The professor asked if he could remove the blankets to do a full examination and Lucille agreed, putting the throw blankets back on top of her trunk. Raoul and the professor helped Francoeur sit back up, and Raoul winced at the pained sound Francoeur made when they moved him.

"Sorry about that, son," the professor said, in a paternal voice, "We have to be able to see your arms. I have a suspicion as to what this might be."

Raoul sighed with relief and looked at Lucille, gesturing to the professor and nodding. Lucille didn't look terribly comforted, but she nodded back. Raoul went over to her again and laid a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. The professor helped Francoeur out of his jacket, vest, and shirt. Then he began to closely examine each of Francoeur's arm joints. He took the lower arm on Francoeur's left side and moved the joint slowly. Francoeur made a miserable chirp and Lucille stood up.

"Don't hurt him," she said, standing beside the professor nervously.

"Wouldn't dream of it," the professor replied, meeting her eyes, "The exam may not be terribly pleasant, but I promise that no harm will come to him because of me. If you like, you can take his hand. I'm sure that would help."

Lucille nodded and took the upper left hand in hers, patting it gently. Francoeur cooed and closed his eyes, looking uncomfortable. The examination was finished within a few minutes and the professor wrapped one of the blankets around Francoeur's shoulders, turning to Raoul and Lucille.

"I'll need to take him back to my lab with me," he said, his brows slightly furrowed.

Lucille started shaking and Raoul put his arms around her.

"What's wrong, professor?" he asked.

"There is an infection of an entomopathogenic fungus in his joints," the professor replied, then clarified when met with distraught confusion, "It's a parasitic fungus that attaches itself to the sensitive places of insects. It would be best if I could keep him in a controlled environment until I can find a cure that will kill the fungus without harming Francoeur."

Raoul nodded and Lucille pressed a little closer to Raoul. He squeezed her gently before letting go.

"We'll need to carry him to the truck," he said to the professor, who nodded.

* * *

Lucille stayed with Francoeur the whole way, riding in the back of the little truck with his head on her lap. Every time they went over a bump Francoeur whined slightly and Lucille stroked his head. When they arrived, she helped to men support Francoeur's weight as they took him inside, pressing against him when he winced. They got inside and the professor led them to an open area near the lab.

"Hold him for a moment," he said to Raoul, "I'll go and fetch a cot."

Raoul nodded and leaned to support more of Francoeur's weight. After a few moments and some crashing sounds as if something fell down, the professor returned with Charles helping him to carry the cot. The set it up quickly and laid Francoeur down on it. He chirped and curled up again, looking miserable.

It took three days for the professor to find something that would work. Lucille had stayed by Francoeur's bedside the entire time, to the point that Raoul was forced to set up another cot for her to sleep on. Francoeur was mostly quiet the second day, only making a sound when he was forced to move. On the third day he was barely conscious, and Raoul sat with Lucille and his friend the entire day. Both of them were thrown back in time to a short period in which Francoeur had left their lives and they thought he was dead. Neither wanted to admit that they thought about it. When the professor said he had a cure, though, Lucille had broken into tears out of relief and Raoul was sure he grinned wider than he even had.

The cure was a yellow colored powder, which was to be applied to his joints and shell. The professor applied the first dose and by the end of the day Francoeur was already looking better. He still didn't want to move very much, but he was awake and interactive. After another day, just for observation, the professor sent them all home. Francoeur rested for a little while longer, regaining his strength, but the next week he was on the stage performing again, singing in a voice that his friends found even sweeter than before.

* * *

**There we are! Thanks for reading, leave me a review! **


	9. Picnic

**Ok, a little more cheerful after the last entry. The City of Love needs a chance to show its incredible romantic powers, after all. And I wanted to showcase Raoul and Lucille a little bit. Enjoy!**

* * *

Raoul was an intelligent lad for a six-year-old. He'd been around the block a few times, while his mom was looking for work, so he understood the world. He was six years old, after all, that was practically a grown up.

So he knew that when he saw the most beautiful girl in the world and his heart had momentarily stopped, it had to be love. He'd been playing in the park after he'd finished his newspaper deliveries for the day. Several people he'd talked to paid extra if he brought the paper to them, so he bought seven papers every day and charged a little more than he paid for them. He'd scrounged for the money to start, and now he had a decent amount in his piggy bank.

At the park he'd taken his little car, which he had made himself out of junk metal he collected. He rolled it to and fro, enjoying the motion of the wheels. He rolled it really far and it went all the way without stopping! That was, until it hit the back of a girl's heel. Raoul laughed, because girls were regularly viewed as annoyances best to be antagonized. The girl turned around, though, and Raoul's jaw dropped. She was gorgeous.

She picked up the little car and gestured to Raoul. He nodded apologetically that, yes, it was his. Then she stuck her tongue out at him and ran away. He lost both of the things closest to his child heart in that moment, and he turned and ran, crying miserably.

The next week school started and he again encountered the girl. She was as beautiful as before, but he could not forget the awful pain she'd caused him. So he actively avoided her. Strangely enough, she did the opposite, to the point that recess was composed of the same game every day; he would run away and she would chase him. Whenever she caught him, they would have a word fight. It had to be a word fight, because Raoul's mother always told him not to hit girls. She would always win and that would make Raoul even madder, so he would run away again the next day.

Eventually the class was supposed to go on a field trip. They were going to the Eiffel Tower to have a picnic lunch and learn about the characteristic structure. Raoul loved field trips, hating to be cooped up in the classroom. His paper delivery business was growing, after all, and he'd had to wake up earlier and earlier to get all of his deliveries done before school. Summer was going to be marvelous, and field trips were like a preview of summer.

He got his mother to give her permission and she packed him a picnic lunch as well. It would have been even better if he could have brought his little car with him…but he tried not to let those kind of thoughts trouble him. When he arrived at the Tower, though, and went to tell the teacher he was there and join his class, it was impossible not to think of his car. _She_ had it.

His teacher sat them in groups, and knowing that the two had a tendency to start little arguments when they were together, she sat him and the girl in different groups. He noticed from afar that she was carrying his car, and turned away, frowning at his sandwich. However, after lunch was finished, there was a short time for all the students to go and explore the tower, as long as they met at the bottom right leg of it at the agreed time. Raoul went to explore, who wouldn't? But that girl followed him and soon she was chasing him up the Eiffel tower. When he got tired and had nowhere else to run, she caught him and he expected a word fight again. This time, however, it appeared she wanted to be tricky.

"It's a pretty little car, isn't it?" she said, gesturing with his little car in her hands.

Raoul pouted and refused to look at her.

"I remember, somebody rolled it at my feet in the park one day," she said, smiling shyly, "And he didn't even come to chase me when I ran away with it."

"Why would I want to chase an ugly old toad?" Raoul retorted, sticking his tongue out afterwards.

"Hey!" she said, "I'm not a toad!"

"Yes you are!" Raoul replied, smiling triumphantly as he'd gotten her fired up, "You're a big, warty toad!"

"Well you're a bird-brain!" she threw back, glaring.

"And you're just so..so you!" he said, his insult coming up short in the last second.

"See?" she said, smiling, "A bird-brain."

"Just leave me alone!" he said, almost crying again.

Raoul pushed past the girl and ran down the steps. He heard her yelling, saying "Wait!" But he was already half way down the tower steps and sure wasn't going back up!

Meanwhile, Lucille sighed unhappily. Why did he run away all the time? She just wanted to be friends, and sure, friends played tag, but they took turns on who was it. It just made her so mad that he would never hold still and talk to her, so she always had a word fight with him when she caught him because he was slower than she was. She was a girl, after all, they tended to be bigger than boys in the first grade. She would win, because he really was kind of a bird-brain, but then he would run away crying or close to crying and she would feel bad. So she'd try to talk to him the next day and end up chasing him again.

This time, she'd brought the little car he'd left with her the first time he ran away from her. She thought maybe, if she gave it back, he'd be her friend like she wanted. But he'd run away again before she could even get close, and even though she'd tried to give it back when she caught him, he'd still run away. This time she hadn't even tried to start a word fight! It just wasn't fair!

Lucille walked back down the steps of the Eiffel Tower, her little red waves slightly disheveled after the chase. She'd made up her mind. Boys were stupid.

* * *

It had been a year since they had officially started dating, and Raoul knew he had to do something big for their anniversary. After all, Emile told him that women took those things very seriously, and lately he'd been taking Emile's advice on women to heart, as the lucky little fellow had managed to become engaged to the woman of his dreams after less than a year of dating. He loved Lucille more than anything, even choosing to stay at the L'Oiseau Rare after his Catherine was in full working order again. He could manage doing his deliveries and running errands at the same time, as his deliveries were usually either going to or coming from the places they needed to send him. He just considered them another destination on his route and adjusted properly. And he still acted as a waiter in the evenings, after his deliveries, not minding the extra money at all. It made his life very busy, but, as his girlfriend was also his boss, he could get days off when he needed them.

Lucille didn't know what he had planned, as far as he knew. He'd been planning in secret with Emile and Francoeur, wanting everything to be perfect for her. They'd go to the Eiffel Tower, and Emile said that it was one of the most romantic spots in all of Paris. When they got to a good place, there would magically be a picnic lunch set up for them there, with music playing from somewhere hidden. Francoeur had agreed to perch somewhere on the outside of the tower, where he wasn't visible to the couple but his guitar would be audible. And Emile had agreed to set up the magic picnic with Maud's help in the cooking department. Now all Raoul had to do was get her there.

She seemed willing enough, probably already having guessed that he had some sort of surprise in mind. That was the disadvantage to having such a smart girlfriend. The witty banter was really engaging, but she always knew everything. However, Raoul couldn't complain about that. She was amazing.

When they arrived at the tower, he told her to stay in the car and ran around to the opposite side of Catherine to open the door for her, only to discover that she was getting out by herself.

"Lucille!" he said, looking somewhat frustrated, "I was going to open the door for you!"

"I can open a door for myself," she responded, smiling sarcastically.

"That doesn't allow me the chance to show you what a gentleman I can be," he said, offering his arm.

"That's because you can't be a gentleman," she responded, taking the arm and leaning against him, "The Eiffel Tower?"

"No, no," Raoul said, smiling, "I'm not giving away any of the secrets today has left to unfold. Prepare yourself, my lady, for a day of romance and desire."

"If you say so," Lucille said, smiling despite her words.

He led her up the steps of the tower, avoiding other people who were walking back down. When they reached the picnic, he reacted in mock surprise and was proud to note that he'd made her smile with it.

"Why," he said, pointing to the elaborate picnic and inwardly thanking the powers that be for giving him a pal like Emile, "What is this? An incredible picnic lunch, with our name written all over it?"

In fact, their names were written all over it. Emile had labeled the place mats on the little quilt with their initials, and the sandwiches, fruit, and wine sitting out of the basket were all arranged perfectly. The label on the basket said, "Happy First Anniversary to Lucille and Raoul!" He had to remind himself to thank Emile later.

"Raoul," Lucille said, patting his shoulder with her hand, "When did you do all of this?"

"Oh, you think I…?" he said, holding a hand to his chest in a show of "modesty" and earning a smile again, "I'm as surprised as you are my dear."

"Sure you are," she said, walking over and taking her seat on the quilt.

Raoul walked over and sat beside her, smiling. Everything was going perfectly. Right on cue, the romantic guitar music floated to the couple from an invisible source. Lucille smiled and looked around, then she gave Raoul a look.

"Where do you have poor Francoeur hiding?" she asked, the smile on her face saying she loved the music.

"Francoeur is here?" Raoul answered, the smile on his face saying he loved her more than any music.

The two sat together, talking, bantering, and eating. The mood of romance was perfect. Then something happened outside the plan. Francoeur suddenly came into sight, hesitant but purposeful. He had a little basket on his arm and was looking from Lucille to Raoul and back again.

"Francoeur!" Raoul said, trying to make this look like it was part of the plan, "What are you doing here?"

Francoeur chirped timidly and Lucille laughed a little, gesturing for him to come closer.

"It's alright, Francoeur," she said, holding out her hand to him, "Raoul, I asked him to bring me something."

Raoul looked between them. He told her? That little imp, he should have known he'd blow the secret. He told Lucille everything!

"I guessed that you had some kind of surprise planned, based on the devious look you gave me every time I saw you for the past two weeks," she said, smiling at his somewhat betrayed expression, "I told him that he shouldn't tell me anything, just to bring me something to wherever you were going to take us."

Francoeur came forward and placed the little basket beside her, smiling and running off to go back to his hiding place. Raoul eyed the basket curiously, and Lucille smiled deviously, reaching into it. She pulled something out that he hadn't seen for a very long time. It was his little car! It was exactly as he had remembered it, magnificent and perfect in its simplicity. And in the hands of the woman he loved.

"It's a pretty little car, isn't it?" she said playfully.

Raoul didn't say anything, so she continued.

"I remember when a certain boy rolled this into my heel," she said, getting a nostalgic look on her face as she spoke, "And I spent the rest of the year chasing him around the playground. I tried once to give it back, but he ran away before I could."

She paused to take in the touched look on Raoul's face before continuing again.

"It doesn't belong to me, though, even if it is pretty," she said, holding it out to him, "I hear you know the little boy I accidentally stole it from. Could you give it back to him?"

Raoul didn't say anything. He took the little car from her hands and set it aside. Then he reached out, taking her chin gently in his right hand, and kissed her lips. They began to kiss each other passionately and both of them were satisfied that this anniversary had gone exactly according to plan.

* * *

**I love childhood romances. They're just so passive aggressive. I remember the days of "word fights," when chasing your crush around the playground constituted a date. **

**And the belligerent sexual tension between Raoul and Lucille is one of my favorite things about the pairing. Thanks for reading, leave me a comment if you liked!**


	10. Love Songs

**"Happily ever after does not necessarily exclude the possibility of throwing the furniture at one another." - G. K. Chesterton. **

**A few people have mentioned to me that Raoul and Lucille wouldn't last because they would fight all the time. While I don't deny that they would disagree frequently, I believe their relationship would be built on a different foundation than a more peaceful couple like Emile and Maud. However, a gentle person like Francoeur would have a little difficulty adjusting to the frequent spats, so I decided to investigate how he would feel about this relationship. This is what happened. **

* * *

Francoeur had been a giant flea for almost a year. In fact, his "surprise" birthday party, which he "didn't know" about, was coming up within the week. Francoeur was more observant than his friends seemed to realize, but not knowing about it wouldn't make it any less exciting so he didn't let on.

The winter of the year 1911 had been a lot different than his first winter. The weather was a great deal colder, for one. Lucille had given him a pair of specialized boots and thicker gloves, which he much appreciated. Currently, he was wrapped up in warmth from head to toe and taking his now routine morning walk through the park. For once, covering his face wasn't the only reason for wrapping up in a scarf.

He still walked though, even when it was cold. It gave him a little time outside to observe the never ending wonders of the world around him, and also a little time to be by himself. He loved his friends, no doubt; he would die for them. But Francoeur was an introvert in nature. He found most of his inspiration in moments spent alone in a peaceful environment. And nothing was more peaceful than a morning walk. Granted, he had been considering staying inside when he saw the new snow falling the night previous, but peace and quiet went from refreshing to essential the next morning. Lucille and Raoul were at it again. Francoeur sighed went to sit on a bench in the park.

Raoul and Lucille's relationship was tumultuous. It was to be expected, as they were both very passionate people with sarcastic senses of humor. Sometimes those similarities worked splendidly for them. And sometimes they were inches from attacking one another. Oddly enough, they never seemed to be anywhere near breaking up, which made Francoeur happy. He liked them together. They had been dating for most of his life so far, and the two of them breaking up wasn't something he liked to think about. Gladly, their fights were usually over absurd, small things that they regretted later and made up within the day. The unusual, large fight was a rare commodity. Emile had said that there were some people who just enjoyed the passion that a good disagreement brought out in them, while others preferred the quiet. He said that what Raoul and Lucille did was usually more like sparring than actually fighting.

Francoeur just didn't like conflict. He was good natured and would just do as someone else wanted rather than disagree or upset them in any way. So when two people in his home began to disagree and argue, he naturally sought peace, not wanting to get pulled into it.

Today he'd decided to feed the pigeons in the park. He'd grown to love the little birds, the like of which were one of the first things he saw in what he could recall of his life, and took bread crumbs to the park on a regular basis. It was one of the things he did alone, usually, because Lucille was a very busy woman as the co-owner of a successful business and its chief performer. And Raoul hated birds. Francoeur sat down and began to toss the crumbs gently to the few pigeons that were already there. They pecked at them eagerly and a few more swooped down, much to his delight. Then a horrible, ungodly screech frightened every living thing in the park and the pigeons flew away in terror.

Francoeur covered his ears and looked towards the sound, thinking something must be dying to produce it. However, when he located the source, it looked as if the sound was voluntary. That only made it worse, somehow.

A young man was sitting on a nearby park bench with a badly mangled triangle, and the sound seemed to be coming from him. He was rather disheveled, with a dark beret on his head and his shirt untucked. His hair was blond, long, and greasy. But probably the most noticeable feature about him was his very large, very pointed nose.

"LOVE MAKES THE WORLD GO 'ROUND!" he squalled, making the couple walking by move a little faster, "THE GRASS WON'T GROW WITHOUT LOVE, THE BIRDS WON'T SING! YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT IT, LET YOUR HEART TAKE WING!"

Francoeur just stared in horror for a few moments until he could take no more. He walked over to the man and tapped his shoulder. He looked up and Francoeur put a finger over where his mouth was behind the scarf, trying to be friendly but get his point across. However, the man didn't seem willing to take it that way.

"No, I will not be quiet!" he said, looking indignant, "You will not silence my art! I will sing until my dying day!"

Francoeur quietly wondered how anyone could consider that singing, then smiled and tried to ask a different way. Again, he wished sometimes that French was easier to pronounce. He chirped pleadingly and pressed his hands together in a gesture of appeal. The man looked at him for a minute, then his eyes widened and he stood, pointing a finger accusingly.

"You!" he said with recognition, "You were the one who got me arrested, Messieur Monster of Paris!"

Francoeur's eyes widened and he gestured to himself questioningly.

"Yes you!" he said, puffing up, "The police thought I was lying to them when you weren't still around at the L'Oiseau Rare when we got there. They arrested me for giving them false information! I lost my job over that!"

Francoeur recognized him now. He was Albert, the guy who'd been a waiter at the restaurant when Lucille found him! He'd had to hide in the piano when Maynott had come looking for him, and this man was the one who led him there. Francoeur looked down and let out a displeased chirp, pointing at Albert accusingly.

"Oh, what?" Albert said, seeing the gesture, "It's not like I had any other choice! I was doing my job as an honest citizen! Anyone would be morally required to do the same in my position!"

Francoeur rolled his eyes and made a disbelieving hum. Albert swelled again.

"Well, at least Mademoiselle Lucille ended up with the appropriate punishment for her actions," he said, sneering, "Hiring on an _amateur _out of pity when she could have had a true visionary. I bet she regrets that now!"

Francoeur chirped, a sound half way between humor and irritation. Then he gestured to the lamp post across the walkway they were standing on, on which was a large poster advertising the show with the words "Lucille et Francoeur" written in large lettering. Albert huffed and continued.

"That proves nothing!" he said, rolling his eyes, "Anyone can sing in a little cliché place like that! Real music is out, amongst the people!"

At this, he grabbed the bent triangle and began clanging it again, breaking out into another horrid song that sent Francoeur's hands instinctively to cover his ears.

"WHEN I CAN'T TAKE NO MORE, I TAKE A GREAT BIG SNORE! I FALL ASLEEP AT EASTER AND WAKE UP AT EASTEEEEEER! ONE YEAR LATEEEEEE-EEEEEEEER!"

Francoeur chirped loudly, begging him not to sing anymore. Albert seemed to take it completely differently than it was intended, however, and smiled triumphantly.

"You see?" he said, obviously thinking the chirp combined with the cringing had been an admission of inferiority, "This is what true talent looks like."

At this he began singing a butchered version of one of Francoeur's own songs with a look of superiority plastered to his face. Francoeur was a gentle soul. He was not naturally inclined to violence. But sometimes the world pushes us all beyond our natural limits. Calmly, Francoeur took off one of his gloves. He then used it to slap Albert across either cheek, defending the honor of Francoeur's music which he'd just so tragically desecrated. Albert blinked, shocked, then returned the gesture and it was on.

"So it's a duel of musicians then," Albert said, attempting to be menacing but coming off as squeaky.

Francoeur nodded solemnly. Then they both returned to their separate park benches and sat. Albert began and Francoeur gave apologetic looks to the people walking by, who began to run at the sound.

"LOVE DOESN'T MATTER TO ME ANYMORE!" he shrieked, "LOVE AND THE REST OF THE WORLD ARE ALL ONE GREAT BIG BORE!"

He stopped after those two lines and looked at Francoeur challengingly. Francoeur began to sing and a few people, who'd been looking at Albert questioningly, looked over to Francoeur with pleasant surprise.

"I will never forget your eyes!" he sang as sweetly as he could, remembering not to sing too loudly, as this was a public place, "I will never forget your smile! No matter where I go or who I meet…you'll be the one who made my life complete!"

A couple people clapped and Francoeur stopped, smiling. But Albert wasn't done yet.

"IT'S ME AGAINST PARIS AND ME AGAINST THE WORLD! IT WILL NOT CHANGE WHO I AM, NO MY VOICE I'LL UNFUUUUUUUUURL!"

As soon as Albert stopped, Francoeur started, making eye contact with the people who had stopped to listen to him.

"I don't know, don't know, so don't ask me why! It's how we love, the Seine and I! Yes, how we love…the Seine and I!"

This had gone on for half an hour when the police officer arrived. Apparently someone had gone to fetch the park officer on duty, reporting a disturbance of the peace. The two challengers fell silent when the officer approached, and he gave them stern looks.

"Alright, what's going on here?" the officer said, looking between the singer and the…Albert.

Francoeur chirped lightly, trying to figure out a way to explain. Albert beat him to it, and Francoeur put one glove to his face in aggravation.

"This _amateur_ musician challenged me to a duel!" he said, standing indignantly, "We chose to settle our differences by allowing the people to choose between us!"

The officer looked at Francoeur and he shrugged, his face still leaning on his left hands.

"You do know that loud music is prohibited in the park area without a permit, correct?" he asked.

Francoeur nodded and chirped, pointing to Albert to convey that it was not himself who was singing loudly. Albert huffed indignantly.

"Hey, you started it," he whined.

The officer seemed to consider for a moment. Then he looked to Francoeur, ignoring Albert entirely.

"Why don't you demonstrate exactly what you were doing until I arrived?" he said.

Francoeur nodded, but Albert cut him off.

"We were singing!" he said as if speaking to an idiot, "Observe. TO THE BOSSES, I SAY NO! TO WORK I SAY BYE-BYE! TO MY BED I DO GO! DOING NOTHING, THAT'S RIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!"

Francoeur, the officer, and everyone who'd gathered to watch the exchange winced. Francoeur shuddered and began singing just as he had before.

"Don't forget, you said you loved me," he sang at a reasonable volume and within the boundaries of pitch, "You said that you would always try. Don't forget, you said you'd hold me…and that you'd never make me cry."

The officer's mustache twitched slightly and he spoke when Francoeur finished, holding up a hand to silence Albert for fear he would begin to sing again.

"I think I've seen enough," he said, the turning to Francoeur, "I can see that this situation simply got out of control. I've seen you in this park several times and you've never caused trouble before. You can go on your way, as long as I have your word that this won't happen again."

Francoeur nodded and smiled at the police officer gratefully. Then the officer turned to Albert and began to say he was placed under arrest for repeated offences of disturbing the peace. Albert protested and Francoeur felt a little guilty, knowing he'd had something to do with this whole mess as well. He approached the officer and tapped his shoulder, gesturing to Albert and chirping. The officer looked confused, so Francoeur gently pushed the handcuffs he was about to put on Albert's wrists down and shook his head with a light hum. The officer seemed to understand him.

"You don't want me to arrest him?" he asked, his face looking somewhat amused, "But I do believe he caused a disturbance. And you may not have cause trouble before, but this one certainly has."

Francoeur nodded slightly, but smiled and hummed the same way again.

"Well, alright," the officer said, smiling now, "I'll let him off with a warning, if you really think that's fair. But on one condition, Messieur Francoeur."

Francoeur's eyes widened when the officer mentioned his name and he chirped inquisitively.

"Would you sign an autograph for me?" the officer asked, pulling out a little pad of paper and a pen from his pocket, "It would mean a lot to my daughter."

Francoeur smiled and nodded, humming happily. He signed the paper and the officer let go of Albert, giving him a strict warning that he was never to sing in that manner in a public place again. Albert huffed and said he was being oppressed by the man, then turned and ran when the officer threatened to change his mind, much to everyone's amusement. Francoeur began to make his way back home, smiling. It hadn't exactly been a peaceful walk, but he was beginning to understand why Lucille and Raoul enjoyed sparring so much!

* * *

**Yes, sometimes little disagreements can be fun. Oh, and I just had to include Albert, as I laughed so hard when he started singing in the movie that my sides hurt and I started coughing. So yes, the failtastic king of poor pitch has made his appearance. Thanks for reading!**


	11. Spring Romance

**Ok, so a little more of Emile because he's just adorable. I wanted to cover how Emile proposed and spotlight he and Raoul's friendship a little. **

**Also, heh, I decided that college wasn't my thing this year, so I'm probably going to keep posting fairly regularly. I've been posting on an almost daily basis, I've noticed, and I don't know how long that will last. But as soon as I have a new chapter written and spell checked to the best of my ability, I'll have it out for you. And I do go back and fix errors, so if anyone spots something that snuck through, you can let me know and I'll spot check it. Thanks!**

* * *

Raoul had been busy lately. It had been eight months since he and Lucille started dating and she still ran him ragged as an errand boy. It wasn't such a terrible thing, he supposed. He had a job, after all. He still missed having Catherine to fly around the city at high speed, but she was almost repaired and he only needed one more specialized part before he could start testing her out. So he walked or rode the bicycle Lucille'd given him for the job everywhere he went.

Currently, he was in a rather ritzy area of town, where the jewelry shops were and specialty clothing could be purchased. Lucille had sent him to have the wings she wore to perform re-feathered, as _someone_ had _accidentally_ spilled a massive amount of pink champagne on them after they had triggered his allergies. Raoul sneezed and resisted the urge to cuss at the things, which he was carrying in a paper bag. He crossed the cobblestone road to the shop and dropped them off inside, the lady at the counter telling him they would be finished the next day. He sneezed into his handkerchief as he walked out the door, then froze as he saw a face he recognized.

There was a short, friendly looking man walking into the nearby jewelry shop, wearing a green hat and suit and carrying a camera. Raoul smiled and began sneaking up on his friend. He peered through the window and found Emile looking down into a glass case inside the shop, his expression excited and pondering. Raoul opened the door and carefully walked up behind Emile, treading softly. Then he simply spoke.

"Hey Emile," he said.

Emile jumped a mile into the air and Raoul laughed.

"Ha! You're just so hilarious, I couldn't resist," he said when Emile gave him a disapproving look.

"What are you doing here?" Emile said, trying to shake off the frazzled expression.

"I was running an errand for Lucille and saw you walking into the shop," he said, smiling slightly, "And what are you doing here, pondering over a case of diamond rings?"

Emile didn't answer right away, but he turned bright red and Raoul shoved him a little with his elbow.

"You're going to propose!" he whispered excitedly, "You dog!"

"Oh, hush," Emile said, shoving Raoul right back, "And don't you tell anybody."

"Of course not," Raoul said, giving his friend a mock offended look, "What are best friends for?"

Emile looked at him for a moment in quiet exasperation, then looked back down at the glass case.

"I'm trying to decide," he said, his brow creasing again, "Raoul, which one do you think Maud would like best?"

"She's your lady, my friend," Raoul replied, putting up his hands, "I wouldn't know."

Emile pondered for a few minutes before speaking again.

"The circle cut reminds me of her glasses," he said, smiling a little, the frowning, "But the pear shape has a better gleam to it. And the square cut looks more glamorous. Oh, Raoul, why do there have to be so many choices?"

Raoul chuckled and patted Emile on the back, turning to go.

"I have other errands I have to run," he said, "But whichever one you pick, I'm sure she'll like it."

Emile made a small sound and nodded. When Raoul left him, he was still staring into the glass case.

The next week, Emile paid a visit to the cabaret before they opened. Raoul went to get the door when he knocked and greeted him happily.

"Emile!" he said, "How go the plans?"

"Shhhhh!" Emile said, putting his finger over his mouth, "I told you not to tell anybody!"

"I didn't!" Raoul replied, smiling sarcastically, "What, am I not even supposed to discuss this with you? I thought you already knew."

Emile gave him a look and Raoul smiled again. Then they walked inside and sat down, Raoul excusing himself for a moment to fetch some snacks from the kitchen. When he returned, Emile had a little box in his hand. Raoul set the cookies he'd found on another table and came up behind Emile again, snatching the box from his hand before his pal even knew he was there. He studied the ring inside appraisingly, nodding and giving it his best snooty, person-who-would-know-something-about-diamonds expression.

"Very nice," he said.

"Give that back!" Emile replied, standing and reaching for the ring.

"A wonderful cut, with just the right fire," Raoul said, smiling a little wider as Emile started trying to reach for the ring and he held it higher.

"Please, give that back!" Emile said again.

This went on for a few more minutes before someone surprised them both. Raoul had been paying more attention to Emile and their game of keep away than to his surroundings, and he almost screamed when something snatched the ring from his fingers. He turned to see Francoeur giving him a rueful look and holding the box in one of his hands. He walked around Raoul and gave the ring back to Emile, smiling and chirping a greeting. Emile smiled back.

"Thank you, Francoeur," he said.

"So," Raoul said, cheerful as before, "When are you going to ask her?"

"I don't know," Emile replied, sitting down at the table again.

Francoeur sat down beside him and chirped questioningly. Emile smiled and answered as if he understood him perfectly, something Raoul had envied since meeting their insect friend.

"I'm going to ask Maud to marry me," he said, looking up at Francoeur as he did so, "But please promise me you won't tell anyone about that, ok? Or about the ring?"

Francoeur hummed the affirmative sound, also adding a happy trill, and Emile relaxed a little more. Raoul sat across from him and leaned his elbows on the table, giving him a little smirk.

"I just need to find the right moment, you know?" Emile asked, looked at Raoul again.

Raoul nodded and smiled wider.

"Or, you need to create the right moment," he said deviously.

"Create a moment?" Emile asked.

"Exactly," Raoul said, standing again and pacing with the excitement of it all, "You make movies Emile, think! What would be the perfect romantic setting?"

Emile pondered for a moment and Francoeur's large eyes alternated between him and Raoul. Raoul just propped his chin on his hands and stared at Emile expectantly.

"Well," Emile said at last, "Most of the romantic scenes in the films I've seen were in a park or somewhere green and inviting."

"So, there's your setting," Raoul replied, sitting up a little more, "All you have to do now is find the right way to ask."

"You see, that's the problem!" Emile replied, his face scrunching pitifully, "You know how I was when I was trying to ask her out. And I can't exactly write a letter asking her to marry me, can I?"

Raoul frowned, shaking his head thoughtfully.

"No, that would be a disaster," he said, earning a look from Emile.

"You're not helping," he said, "I've already tried once to ask her, when the moment would have been great, but my tongue got knotted up again and I couldn't do it."

Francoeur chirped sympathetically and Raoul nodded, then met his eyes.

"What was that perfect moment?" he asked.

"We were saying goodbye before she left the theater when her shift was over," he replied, looking unsure, "But how does that affect anything?"

"Well, maybe a similar moment will come up," Raoul said, looking reasonable.

"Why?" Emile asked, "So I can chicken out again?"

The two men and giant flea all sat thoughtfully for a moment. Then Raoul's eyes lit up and he looked at Emile with inspiration.

"You make movies!" he said, smiling wide.

Emile's only reply was a confused look and Francoeur trilled inquisitively, so Raoul continued.

"You can't write her a note," Raoul said, standing and pacing with the brilliance of his new idea, "And you can't work up to guts to say it in person."

"Thank you," Emile said sarcastically.

"My point is, why don't you do halfway in between?" Raoul asked, putting his hand down on the table excitedly, "Make her a movie!"

The idea settled in for a minute and a pleased look came to Emile's face.

"Yes, that would be interesting," he said, putting a hand to his chin thoughtfully, "But what would the film be? There's no sound and I couldn't just mouth the words and hope she can understand."

"So you make one of those word card things," Raoul said, sitting back down again and framing the idea with hand gestures, "You film yourself at the park, where everything is all green like you mentioned. You walk around a little or something to set the scene, then you look at the camera and fall to one knee, saying the words. After that, the words pop up "Maud, will you marry me?" Then all you have to do is pull that ring out of your pocket and look at her. It will be perfect!"

Emile was smiling wide now and Francoeur chirped and clapped his hands excitedly.

"That's actually a really good idea, Raoul!" Emile said, standing up, "I'm going to go do it!"

"Good man!" Raoul replied, patting him on the shoulder.

Emile rushed out of the L'Oiseau Rare with his camera in tow and a purpose to his steps. Francoeur smiled and hummed at Raoul.

"Yeah," he responded, "I know. I'm awesome."

* * *

**Alright, that's this one! Thanks guys, love to my readers! **


	12. Moments of Joy

**Ok, so real history is a huge part of A Monster in Paris, with the entire story hinging around a real life event, the 1910 flooding of the Seine River. So I could not ignore the fact that one big real life event was looming in the near future for the characters in the story. I know this one is way into the future from the movie, compared to all the others so far, and I will be writing more detail as to the events that happened in between. This is just a brief jump ahead in time. **

* * *

Lucille waited nervously at the busy London train station, Francoeur standing silently behind her. So much had happened so quickly, she sometimes still woke up thinking she would look out her window to see the streets of Paris. So much had changed.

It had been six years since Francoeur's creation. For a while everything had seemed easy, as if the stars had aligned to give them the perfect life for that brief time. In December of 1911, Emile and Maud were married. It was a beautiful, joyous ceremony and it portrayed their sweet romance perfectly. They even made a film of the entire wedding, which was highly unusual but enjoyable all the same. When Lucille thought of the way Raoul had made faces at the camera, a little smile came to her face despite the overwhelming worry. He'd given a deeply touching speech as the best man. Lucille thought it was probably because he'd been able to write it down first, so he didn't stumble over the heartfelt words like he would if he were to try to say them unscripted. Plus, she'd helped him write the speech so he wouldn't make an idiot of himself.

Somehow, the beauty of that wedding must have given Raoul motivation, because in January of 1912 he proposed to her. She looked down at the ring that he'd saved for months for without telling anyone, tears welling in her eyes. His proposal had been badly worded, awkward, and about as characteristically Raoul as a proposal could be, but it had been the happiest moment in her life. She'd given him a hard time, of course, refusing to answer for two days and letting him fuss and fume. But she said yes.

Their wedding was delayed continuously, first for his career then for hers. They'd had some magnificent fights over the whole mess. At one point she'd already booked the church when she was given the opportunity to travel to New York with Francoeur to perform, something that wouldn't be delayed and a chance that would never come again. They had had such an argument over that, but not in the way most people would have thought. He'd just gotten his business to the point that a wedding was possible, since he refused to allow her to pay for the whole thing herself, insisting that they split it fifty-fifty. Yet, it was Raoul arguing for her career, not her. She'd already started on plans for the reception at the L'Oiseau Rare, she had her table settings and everything! She'd wanted to stay, as the trip to New York would last for months. But Raoul told her to go and wouldn't budge on the matter, saying that neither he nor the place settings would be going anywhere. That was August, 1913.

The trip to New York was marvelous and they were a grand hit with the American audience, to the point where they were asked to extend their stay by two months. It had already been six months, but when she called Raoul he said she should stay. Not wanting to fight with him again when they were so far apart, she did. It was April of 1914 when she and Francoeur finally got back home.

Lucille fidgeted, looking down the track to see if she could spot any signs of a train. The train was scheduled to come in over half an hour before, but someone had told her to expect troop trains to run late so she was only slightly more nervous than she had been before. She opened the pocket watch she had around her neck again, checking it for the third time in as many minutes. Francoeur's glove lay gently on her shoulder and she reached up to take it, hearing a concerned hum behind her.

"It's alright, Francoeur," she said, trying not to let her voice shake, "The train's just running a little late, that's all."

Francoeur purred gently, saying clearly that it wasn't the train he was worried about. During their travels, Lucille had spent so much time with Francoeur that she could now understand most of his chirps and hums clearly. It was very different from any language she'd ever heard, relying more on inflection and pitch than syllabic structure. But, despite the fact that it all sounded like the same sound to most people, it was a language. It just took living with him and being constantly around him to understand that.

"I'm fine, Francoeur," she said softly.

He didn't make a sound, but his gloved hands didn't move.

The war had started far too soon after she'd returned home. She and Francoeur left again almost as soon as they arrived, along with a large group of women and children who were trying to avoid the impending struggle. Raoul had joined the army, saying it was his duty to do so. That had been another massive fight, and one that they'd never resolved as they were still heated on the subject when he left for his new post. Emile had tried to join too, but he was under the height requirement for active service. Instead he became a civilian reporter, filming footage of the soldiers and the movements in Paris for the news reels. She took Maud and their first child, little Loraine, with her and Francoeur when they went to England as refugees. The little woman was surprisingly brave, helping to care for refugee children who had been separated from their parents. She'd taken in four now and was supporting them all with the job she'd managed to get as a waitress and whatever money Emile managed to send from his infrequent paychecks. Lucille helped them whenever she could, but money wasn't abundant for her either. Lucille and Francoeur performed in a little London nightclub to make the money they needed to survive. They'd been there since the start of the war two years prior, and while their show was popular they were not paid nearly what they had been making at the L'Oiseau Rare.

The train finally became visible and Lucille was again snapped out of her reverie. She leaned to watch it coming closer and closer, until it was nearing the station and she pulled back. It roared its way into the station and the attendants opened the doors of the passenger cars. Men began to pour out of the train in huge numbers, all injured in one way or another. Some stumbled down the stairs on crutches; others had bandages or slings on their arms. Many had lost limbs, their injuries still raw. Lucille felt Francoeur get a little closer to her. She turned and smiled encouragingly to him, putting a hand on his sleeve, and he looked down at her nervously. His eyes were wide and he was breathing fairly quickly, looking around him at all the injured men fearfully. He was so mature and socially graceful, sometimes Lucille forgot his actual age. He'd never seen this kind of pain, and it frightened him.

The flow of soldiers coming off the train by their own power lessened, and some of the other people who'd been waiting for the train began going in to seek out their loved ones. Lucille followed their example, pulling Francoeur gently by his gloved right hands. The inside of the train car was crowded with men even though she'd just seen many come off. They were in the seats or lying on the floor, unable to move themselves for one reason or another. She looked carefully at the faces of each man, trying to find one in particular. Francoeur chirped from behind her and she turned to him quickly. He'd found Raoul.

Lucille had received letters from Raoul on an irregular basis, all of them long and obviously written over an amount of time. They said that sending mail wasn't always the easiest thing to do, and while they bore his trademark wit and sarcasm, the letters had a sadness to them and a sincerity that Lucille had rarely seen from Raoul before he left. He always said that he missed her greatly, thought of her constantly, and would see her again soon. Sometimes he would give a small account of detail on some things that had happened to his unit, though usually it was brief and she could tell he didn't want her to know what was really happening. Then the letters stopped, and she didn't receive another bit of word until two months later.

The telegram that Lucille had received was brief, as all telegrams were. It had said that Raoul was "injured and unfit to return to battle" and listed the train that he would ride to England. She'd fainted when she read it, and unfortunately she'd fallen, as there was nobody there to catch her this time. It gave very little detail as to the nature of his injuries and Lucille's mind went immediately to the worst as human minds tend to do. Horrible images still haunted her nightmares and she'd prepared herself for anything before coming to wait for the train.

Finally setting eyes one him, however, she realized that there was no way to prepare for this moment. Raoul was one of the soldiers on a bench, laid out flat and wrapped in a blanket. He looked pale and sickly, his fluffy black hair disheveled. For a second she panicked, as he was lying so still and looked so pale she thought he might have died on the trip. But she saw his chest rising under the blanket a moment later and her heart calmed somewhat. She reached out a hand to touch his brow and brushed the hair away from it gently. His eyes opened and their gazes locked. For a moment there was nothing else in the world aside from each other.

"Lucille?" Raoul murmured, his voice almost disbelieving.

"I'm here," she said, stroking his face.

"No, you can't be," he said, with tears coming to his eyes, "I'm dreaming again."

Lucille had never heard the longing or the hopelessness that was present in Raoul's voice. Her throat swelled warningly, and tears filled her own eyes as she responded in a way a dream never could.

"It's really me, you idiot," she said hoarsely.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Raoul pushed himself up into her arms and clung to her desperately. She held him just as tight, with tears of relief pouring from both their eyes as they embraced. He was alive. He was in England where she could take care of him. Lucille realized in an instant that this day, this moment had replaced his proposal as the happiest in her life.

* * *

**One reader said that I could choose to leave these characters unaffected by the war, so long as I remembered to mention it. But that is impossible, as they live in France, one of the first countries in the war, and Paris was largely evacuated as the threat of attack loomed closer. Paris was almost taken by Germany at the start of the war, with the Germans getting as far as the Loraine territory and attacking Paris directly before being driven back by French and English troops. They were definitely going to be effected, and majorly so. This is how I can see these characters reacting to the war, and I hope it's satisfactory for my readers. I did do a good amount a research for this one, which is why it took me a while to post. Leave me a comment on what you think, and if you spot any mistakes let me know. **


	13. Warmth

**Ok, so right after I skip into the future the furthest I've yet gone, I go right back into the time during the actual movie. Ha, can't help it, I'm A.D.D! **

* * *

It was cold and miserable, with the coat, hat, and scarf he'd taken to wearing doing nothing to protect him from the chill as the icy cold droplets fell in a steady rhythm that gave no signs of stopping. He wandered through the dark, looking for a place to hide from the rain.

He'd been wandering like this for two days. It was confusing and frightening to be alone in the city, and though he'd figured out the basics of the sounds that the humans made, he couldn't imitate them. He'd perched above roofs to watch people speaking to each other and discovered that he had a quick understanding when it came to sounds. Their language was rather simple in its structure. But he couldn't make the sounds that they did, with every try coming out as a chirp, hiss, or sometimes a high humming sound. He'd heard music and had been instantly drawn to the sound, but the old lady listening had screamed and he'd jumped away, afraid. He watched and was beginning to understand the world spinning on around him, but he couldn't interact with it.

He hopped onto the roof of a building, having found small shelters on roofs before. There was nothing, and he was about to leave the way he'd come, but he heard murmuring in the alley behind the structure, so he went to listen. He listened to every human he could, as he knew that understanding them would make his life easier. But, ever since that first day, he'd avoided being seen by them. He didn't know much about them, nor they about him, but he knew that he frightened them. That knowledge brought with it a strange sort of guilt, though it wasn't his fault that he made them afraid. He'd never hurt a single human nor would he. Yet they all still ran away when they saw him. He'd seen the picture on the front of that paper a woman had been reading, heard her mumbling the story on it to herself. He was a monster.

The human in the alley was a man, a relatively young one with a very large nose. He watched the man move from the door a little, understanding the resentment in his tone more than the words he was saying. It was something about "talent," he understood that word. He accidentally made a frustrated sound, as the words were confusing him, and the man noticed his shadow. The man began to panic, as all the humans seemed to do around him, and he jumped down in front of him, trying to show him that he meant no harm. Instead of calming him, however, this just made the man more hysterical, and he threw himself over a tall fence a few yards away.

Before he'd gone, however, the man had been pulling a metal handle attached to a chain. It had made a rather interesting sound and he had never seen anything like it before, so he went to investigate. It made the same beautiful sound when he pulled it that it had when the man did, and he pulled it a few times in amazement. Then the door opened quickly and hit the side of his shell, throwing him a few feet to the opposite side of the alley. He moaned in surprise and pain at hitting the wall.

There was a woman in the door. He had learned that, while sometimes the men would just run away, the women all made loud, high pitched sounds when they saw him. He curled up into his coat as much as he could, wanting to be invisible. Surprisingly, this woman didn't start shrieking like they usually did. She acted concerned, saying something about "hurt" and "see" in a gentle tone. He had never had anyone ask about his well-being before. So he stood slowly, keeping all his hands visible, and shook the scarf away from his face. She just stared at him in shock for a moment, then her eyes rolled and she began to fall.

This was definitely something new. He reached out quickly and caught her with all four of his arms before she could hit the ground, hoping she was alright. For a moment, she was dead weight in his hands and he stared down at her in concern. Then the rain drops hit her face and her eyes opened. He smiled, glad she was ok. Then she hit him.

It didn't hurt, really. His face was more flexible than most of his shell, yes, but it was harder than human flesh. It surprised him enough to make him let go of her though. She got to her feet and ran into the door, throwing it shut behind her and leaving him outside in the miserable cold as the rain picked up again.

He didn't know why he should have expected any different. It was the same reaction that all the others had had to him. She had just seemed like she was different somehow, since she hadn't screamed and had even tried to help him. But that was before she knew what he was. A monster shouldn't expect anything but screaming and cold rain pattering around him.

The rain hit several of the objects in the metal bin that the man had knocked over in his haste to get away. It made a rather pretty sound. He tried making the same sound and a clear, strong note sang from his throat. He chirred in surprise and tried making the same sound again, finding that he could and that it came rather naturally. So he started to try and form this smooth sound he'd discovered into the human words he had heard. Surprisingly, it worked.

He knew nobody could hear him, as everyone had fled the area already. So he began to experiment with this new sound he could make, which now placed as his favorite. He used the human words to express what had happened to him, how he felt. He sang about what it felt like to be "A Monster in Paris," as the paper had called him. About how everyone and everything feared and rejected him, even the animals on the street. But mostly, it was the sadness that he had never been able to show to anyone.

When he finished, he ducked his head. He was alone. This new sound was wonderful, yes, but it didn't make him any different than he was before. Then he heard a sound and his eyes lifted. She was there.

It was the woman who had run inside moments before. She now stood over him with one of the clever little human devices that kept you dry in the rain. She didn't run away when he looked up at her. No, she spoke to him.

"Do you…Do you have a name?" she asked hesitantly.

He made a chirping sound, trying to gauge her reaction. She smiled a little bit and his heart leapt. She didn't run!

"How about…" she started, looking around her, "Francoeur?"

He knew what the word name meant, but he didn't understand this word, Francoeur. Was she trying to give him a name, like a human would have? He chirred questioningly.

"It means honest heart," she said warmly.

He didn't understand what she said, really, he just liked the way she said it. It sounded so friendly. He made a happy humming sound and smiled. She smiled back.

"Come, follow me," she said, gesturing to him.

He did as her words and gestures instructed hesitantly. She walked backwards, guiding him inside. Was she really going to let him, the monster, go into her home? But she did, and closed the door after him.

He was dripping wet and the chill bit at his joints, but he had never been happier in his short life. She hesitantly took one of his hands and pulled it gently towards another door.

"Come with me, Francoeur," she said gently.

He followed, smiling when she used that word again. He wasn't certain, but he thought she used it to refer to him. If "Francoeur" was his name now, he had no objections.

When she pulled him inside the room, she closed that door too. She just looked at him for a few moments and he stared back at her, eyes wide. Then she started talking again, and he did his best to keep up with what she was saying.

"You're soaking wet," she said, gesturing to him, "Why don't you give me those clothes and we'll find you something else to wear?"

He didn't understand. He knew "wet," "clothes," and "wear," and understood from her tone that she wanted him to do something, but he couldn't connect what. He chirped in a confused way and she sighed patiently, then stepped forward and unwrapped the scarf from around his neck. He stooped to make the task easier for her, and when she took the scarf and hat, he gestured to his wet coat as well.

"Yes, that too Francoeur," she said with a smile, "If you don't mind."

He chirred compliantly and removed the wet coat as well, holding it out to her. She set them down and walked over to a funny little folding wall on the opposite side of the room, going behind it. He stood exactly where he had been before, unsure, and she came back out a few moments later with a large piece of thick, soft cloth. She gestured with her hand that he come over, so he did. Then she pushed him gently towards the seat behind him.

"You just sit on the sofa for a minute while I think of what to do with you," she said, pointing to the seat.

He thought he understood, so he sat down on the soft cushions of the sofa. The woman wrapped the cloth around his shoulders. It was warm and comfortable and dry. He liked it.

"I'll have to find some way to hide you," the woman murmured, moving around the room and sorting through boxes, "The police are looking everywhere."

Francoeur, for he understood that it was indeed his name now, watched her through lidded eyes. Perhaps it was the transition from cold to warm, or the friendly environment. Maybe it was even the pretty sound of the woman's voice as she thought out loud to herself. He yawned and she looked over, smiling at him again.

"You look tired," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder without hesitation now, "Why don't you rest? I can figure out some kind of disguise while you're sleeping."

Francoeur chirped drowsily. He didn't understand her. The woman sighed and walked over to the trunk behind the little wall again; coming back out with another piece of cloth like the one she'd wrapped him in. She laid it over his legs and he chirped gratefully. Then she began to make the sound he'd discovered a few minutes ago, pulling him gently down towards the soft cushions of the sofa so that he rested on his side.

"She's resplendent, so confident, la Seine, la Seine, la Seine," she sang soothingly, fixing the blankets over him so that he was covered completely, "I realize, I'm hypnotized, la Seine, la Seine, la Seine. I hear the moon singing a tune, la Seine, la Seine, la Seine. Is she divine? Is it the wine? La Seine, la Seine, la Seine. I don't know, don't know, so don't ask me why. It's how we love, the Seine and I. How we love…the Seine and I."

Francoeur heard every line. His eyelids started to drop about halfway through the song, however, and by the end he was almost asleep. By the time the woman stood and began rummaging around the room again, Francoeur was dead to the world.

* * *

**I would only make sense for Francoeur to have heard the song before the performance, given that his music reading skills couldn't be quite that good yet. Leave me a comment if you're reading, I love feedback!**


	14. Popularity

**Ok, so the same person who suggested the "Bro Code" chapter sent me the suggestion that I show a little of Francoeur's interaction with a fangirl to illustrate why he was afraid of them. Again, no offence to fangirls in general, just a funny suggestion that I wanted to write. **

* * *

Francoeur walked down the street behind Lucille. Francoeur usually went happily on any errand, as boredom had become his frequent enemy in the month since he was brought back to full size. This time, however, the errand was to the tailor for have a new article of clothing made for him, so Francoeur was told to come instead of invited.

Francoeur liked his clothes. They had originally been a gift from Lucille, and to him they were a sign that he had been accepted out of the cold, lonely world he'd been living in before her. But being fitted for clothing was not his favorite thing to do. It was always a long, boring procedure in which the new coat or shirt had to be made and remade to fit his custom needs. The first time had been the hardest, when Lucille had insisted that he needed more clothing than the suit he performed in. The tailor had needed several step stools to take his measurements, as he was a rather short man and Francoeur was…not. The extra suit and new coat that had come from the whole thing had been several weeks late, due to the need for more fabric than was anticipated, and while that didn't bother Francoeur, Lucille had displayed a few new facial expressions over the whole thing.

Francoeur didn't argue against going to the tailor. He'd made a whining hum and dragged his feet as they were leaving, but that was the most complaint he gave. They went despite all complaints, however, as summer would be upon them soon and he would need some lighter clothing, at least so Lucille insisted as she pulled him out the door. He didn't know what summer was, but at the moment he didn't feel a particular fondness for it.

"Keep up, Francoeur," Lucille called over her shoulder, "The sooner we get there, the sooner it will be over with."

Francoeur made a disbelieving sound. Lucille just laughed.

They turned the corner and arrived at the tailor's shop. Lucille walked in and he held the door open for her and followed.

"Mademoiselle!" the tailor's assistant said when they entered, "Right on time. The last appointment just left, so you can go right in, Messieur Francoeur."

Francoeur nodded and gave Lucille a long suffering glance, then went to try on the shirt and pants that had been made for him. Not surprisingly, there were a few alterations that had to be made. Francoeur resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes, a gesture he'd learned from both Lucille and Raoul. After what felt like hours of standing perfectly still for the tailor to pin the clothing where it needed to be altered, Francoeur was finally released. The tailor had a small conversation with Lucille, in which she looked frustrated but resigned, and the two left the tailor's shop together, both as happy as the other to be free at last.

As they were walking back, Lucille saw something in a shop window for a ladies' store and asked Francoeur if he would wait while she went inside for a little while. He had no problem with that. He needed some time to stretch his legs after the tailor appointment. So she went inside to shop a little and he wandered about outside, watching the cars and carts go by on the cobblestone road and looking into the windows of a few shops. He was interrupted, however, by a shrill squeaking sound behind him.

He turned to see a young lady standing behind him. She was young, probably only in her early teens if Francoeur could be any judge of age. She was still wearing her school uniform, as classes must have just let out for the day, and she hugged her books to herself. But it was her facial expression that caused Francoeur's eyes to widen. Her eyes were wide and her face had lost its color, her lips pressed into thin lines. Even now, after the whole fiasco with the Maynott, he still scared people. Francoeur raised his gloved hands gently and tried his best not to look intimidating.

"Y…you…" the girl stammered, pointing to him, "You're Messieur Francoeur! From the L'Oiseau Rare!"

Francoeur's eyes widened in surprise when she mentioned his name. He nodded gently, afraid he might knock the scarf off his face and frighten her even more. But the next moment he learned that frightening her was not much of a possibility. As soon as he nodded, the girl launched herself forward and latched onto his waist, speaking quickly.

"You'rethemostincredibleperformerintheworld!" she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into his jacket, "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou! EverytimeIhearyousingmyheartsingswithyou! Idon'tcarethatpeoplethoughtyouwereamonster! You'reamazingandIloveyourmusicandyou! Wouldyoupleasepleasepleasesayyou'llgooutwithmeandw e'llfallinloveandeverything?!"

Francoeur didn't understand a word. It wasn't surprising, as most fluent French speakers wouldn't have understood what the girl said, muffled and slurred as she was. However, the frantic tone of her voice made him somewhat nervous and he tried to detach her from his waist with growing alarm. For a young girl, she had a surprisingly strong grip; she clung to him and kept talking despite his attempts to escape. Aside from that, Francoeur didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings by pushing her away too adamantly, despite how uncomfortable she was making him. He chirped once and the girl looked up, beaming at him.

"You're an angel!" she said, pressing her chin against his coat to maintain her hold.

Francoeur chirped again, a little louder, and pushed her slightly harder with his gloved hands, trying to push her away to a comfortable distance. She persisted, however, and clung all the tighter, squeezing to the point that Francoeur began to feel a little pressure from her tight embrace.

"Ijustloveyousomuch!" she said, pressing her face into his coat again, "I'vebeentoeveryshowIcouldmakeitto, andI'veheardeverysingleoneofyoursongs! Iknowthemall! Byheart!"

Francoeur began to sound a little frantic and started trying to walk away at the same time as attempting to pry her off. Instead of trying to walk, which would have lessened the power of her hold, the girl just allowed herself to be dragged and spouted off more nonsense talk as she did so. It was at about this point that Lucille emerged from the clothing shop she'd been visiting with a parcel in her arms. Francoeur chirped desperately to her and her face went from mildly happy to confused and outraged. She stormed over to the odd pair and began helping Francoeur in his attempts to free himself, trying to talk sense into the girl as she did so.

"What do you think you're doing?" she said, taking the girls shoulders, "You let go of him this instant!"

"No,Ican't,Ilovehimtoomuch!" the girl replied, and Lucille rolled her eyes, pulling harder than Francoeur had dared to push.

"You can, and you will!" she said, pulling the girl free to be met with a look of outrage from the youth, "Think of what your parents would say about this!"

"They wouldn't understand!" she replied, one of her first understandable sentences yet, "Nobody can understand how much he means to me!"

Lucille berated the girl a little more and Francoeur stood behind Lucille, unconsciously using her as a shield between himself and the girl. After a little while, the girl began to look more distraught than angry, and her lip quivered threateningly.

"I didn't mean to be rude or anything," she said, her voice shaking, "I just never thought I would get the chance to tell him how much I love his music! I'm sorry!"

At this a single tear made its way down the left side of the girl's face and Lucille softened.

"I know, sometimes we all get a little overwhelmed," she said, putting a hand of the girl's shoulder, "But we must try to maintain control of ourselves even when that happens. Do you know what I mean?"

"Y-yes," the girl stammered back, looking up at Lucille with large eyes.

"Good," Lucille said happily, smiling a little, "Then there's no harm done. Why don't you run along now?"

"Ok," the girl said, now looking somewhat ashamed of herself, "But before I go, could you please sign my notebook? It would just mean so much to me!"

Lucille smiled and complied, passing the paper and pencil to Francoeur for him to do the same. He painstakingly wrote his name with one hand, trying not to mess up the lettering he'd recently learned because of the gloves constricting his pair of right hands. He couldn't help but notice that the girl's name was written at the front of the notebook above where she'd had them sign. She had the same sir name as the tailor. They gave the girl her notebook back and she gave them a huge smile, bidding them a giddy adieu before running off in the direction of the tailor's shop.

Lucille chuckled as they were walking back home. Francoeur was still frazzled and confused by the entire encounter, so he couldn't imagine what was funny.

"You should have seen your face when that little girl was hugging you!" Lucille said after a few steps, "You looked so panicked! I recognize that girl, she's the tailor's niece. His assistant mentioned that she had come to go to school here. It appears you have a fan, Francoeur!"

Francoeur chirped inquisitively, his face still somewhat shocked.

"A musician gets fans when they become popular," Lucille explained, smiling at Francoeur, "It seems your music gained her attention."

Francoeur shuddered at that thought. She'd said fan_s_, plural. That meant there would be more like that one? Thoughts milled around his mind as they walked back home, but one thought remained perfectly clear. He was never going to the tailor again.

* * *

**Francoeur disliking the tailor comes from the fact that getting his clothing specially made would be a pain and he would have to stand still for long amounts of time. Francoeur is a peaceful soul, but I see him as somewhat of a fidget too, like with the comb and the guitar in the movie. He'd be ok with being still, but only if he could fidget with something in his hands, something he wouldn't be allowed to do if the tailor was altering clothes for him. : ) Thanks for reading!**


	15. Secret Heart

**Ok, so someone wanted to see how Maud reacted to the proposal, and what can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic! Enjoy!**

* * *

Maud was a very happy woman. The man she'd admired from afar for years actually felt the same way about her. She had a wonderful job, in which she got to see him daily as well as earn enough to get by in life. And today, both of those things could combine, as Emile said he had a big date in mind after the last showing for the day.

She and Emile had been dating for a little over eight months, but it felt like the time had just flown away. Emile had made enough money with his films to buy the theater instead of renting, which raised the profits and Maud's salary handsomely. Meanwhile, the two lovebirds continued to grow closer. Emile would bring her flowers before work, or leave little presents in her ticket booth. He was so charming, so sincere. Maud knew that he was a wonderful man before, but she didn't know how much she could care for him until those fateful events finally allowed him to open up. Now she could never picture herself with anyone else.

She hummed to herself and misted her orchid during a slow time in sales, when the last show had just ended, thinking ahead to what Emile could possibly have planned. It wasn't any big day or anything, just a Tuesday, but that didn't mean it wasn't going to be something extra special. Emile had a way of surprising her. The day passed normally enough, with ticket sales rising and falling as each feature played. When closing time finally came around, Maud left her booth excitedly and hurried up to the projection room where Emile had told her to meet him.

She knocked on the door and Emile opened it, his face looking nervous for some reason. Then again, she'd noticed that he usually looked rather nervous around her, so she just smiled.

"Come in, Maud," he said in an obviously rehearsed voice, opening the door wide as he did so.

In the little projection box there were two seats and a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. Emile took her hand and led her quickly to her seat, muttering half to himself the whole way, as if he was going through a mental checklist.

"You'll sit here, and I'll be running the projector," he said, trotting over to the machine nervously as he did.

"You'll be running the projector?" Maud asked curiously, "What's going to be playing? I've already seen the new feature."

"Oh, this is…" Emile stuttered, glancing back at her, "This is my new film. I just…I just wanted your opinion on it."

Maud smiled. He wanted her opinion on one of his works! She bounced excitedly in her chair a little as he started feeding the film into the projector.

The movie started playing on the screen she could see through the window in the projection room. It looked like the park on a green, sunny day. Maud smiled at the image of a beautiful butterfly floating by, then the camera stopped moving and stayed stationary, as if it had been set on a tripod. Maud sat forward in her chair, knowing that something good must be coming up. Surprisingly, Emile walked out in front of the camera with his hat in his hands nervously. He looked like he did when he was talking to her, bashful and adorably flustered. Maud smiled a little wider and glanced briefly at the real Emile, who was bright red and focused very purposely on the projector. She looked back in time to see the Emile in the film falling to one knee. Her hand shot to her mouth as he held out a hand and said something, a sentence she recognized even without the sound. But, as if he just wanted to make sure she understood, a word card came up a few moments after he said it.

"Maud, will you marry me?" it said simply.

The film stopped moving and Maud looked over at the real Emile with wide eyes. He fell to one knee, just as he had in the movie, and pulled a little box out of his pocket. She made a small sound and he looked up at her nervously. Tears sprung to her eyes and she ran forward from her chair, falling to her knees to hug him around his neck.

"Of course I will!" she sobbed happily.

* * *

"Then he fell to one knee and pulled out the ring!" she said excitedly, holding out her hand for Lucille to see.

Maud had gone to her piano lesson the next day and ended up visiting with Lucille, wanting to share her amazing news. She didn't have a great many friends, the way most people would see friends anyway. She was quiet and not much to look at by the standards of her day, so she didn't naturally attract a crowd like some women did. But she and Lucille had been a great deal friendlier lately. They saw a lot more of each other, since Raoul and Emile were such close friends. She was Maud's only real female friend, and after she jubilantly told her mother and family, Maud wanted to tell the world!

"It's beautiful!" Lucille said, taking her hand to admire the ring, "I love the circular cut, I hear it's very fashionable lately."

"I honestly couldn't have cared less what the ring looked like," Maud said, smiling and putting her hands over her heart, "If it came from Emile, I'd have worn a piece of string around my finger."

"How romantic," Lucille said, smiling though she sounded somewhat sarcastic.

"It was!" Maud said, ignoring the sarcasm completely, "It was just such a magic moment! He set up everything perfectly!"

"I'm happy for you," Lucille said, sounding completely genuine now, "Emile is good man, and I'm sure you'll be very happy together."

Maud couldn't do anything but smile and nod happily. She'd imagined the feeling of being engaged to her Emile, and it met all of her expectations. She and Lucille chatted happily for a few more minutes, then a chirp from a few feet away caught both of their attention. They turned to see Francoeur standing a respectful distance away, looking curious.

"Oh, Francoeur!" Maud said, suddenly remembering her reason for coming, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to keep you waiting! I just got caught up with talking to Lucille…"

"We were just sharing her good news!" Lucille said, smiling wide, then she gestured between Maud and Francoeur, "Tell him, Maud!"

Maud blushed and smiled a little shyly.

"Emile asked me to marry him," she said.

Francoeur's face lit up and he chirred happily, going over to Maud and reaching out a hand to shake hers happily. Maud smiled at him and ignored the hand, hugging him joyfully instead. They'd been friends for a while now, she and Francoeur, and she wasn't hesitant around him like she had been. And Maud had never been stingy with giving hugs when she felt comfortable around someone. Francoeur chirped happily and patted her shoulders.

"But that's enough of that," she said, pushing away and trying to act businesslike again, "I'm late for my piano lesson and you said there would be a new song today."

Francoeur hummed and nodded happily. Lucille bid them her adieu, as she had been on her way out when she ran into Maud at the door.

When she sat down at the piano, Francoeur went to the music holder and brought back sheet music with a very recognizable title; it was the wedding march. Maud's eyes widened and she looked at Francoeur.

"How did you know about…?" she asked.

Francoeur hummed bashfully and shook his head. He wasn't going to tell. Maude smiled and hugged her friend again, knowing he, Raoul, or both must have helped Emile, then set the music on the piano excitedly. Soon, she'd be walking down the aisle to this song. There would be no happier moment in her life, of that she was sure.

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**Thanks for reading, hope you like! **


	16. Instincts

**Ok, so a comment mentioned that someone wanted to see Francoeur's reaction to human food. I loved the idea, so here it is!**

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It was not long after his transformation back into his super-sized self that Lucille began to take a personal interest in every aspect of Francoeur's care. It took seconds, actually. She made sure he had clothing to wear when she'd first found him, seeing that as her responsibility if she was taking him in. Now that he was there permanently, it was even more so. So, after the dizziness and disorientation that were apparently side effects of changing size so rapidly wore off and the required hugs were exchanged, Lucille was immediately thinking about his needs.

"Here," she said, running to the opposite side of the dressing room from where they'd changed him back.

She picked up the discarded suit that he'd worn before, bringing it over to him quickly. The dressing room had seemed the natural place to bring him back to his full size, as it had been his home and he would feel most comfortable there. Aside from that, upon discovering him, she made him stay on the vanity where he was safe until Raoul returned with the potion.

They had all decided it would be best if he changed back alone with Lucille, since she was closest to him and he might be a little stunned by the change happening again. That had proved right, as he had taken a moment even to recognize her when he changed. When he had tensed and prepared his legs to jump in panic, Lucille had been afraid he would hurt himself or her ceiling (or both) in the frenzy. Gratefully, he had remembered where he was before he did jump and chirped at Lucille in a way that couldn't be described. It was halfway between apprehension and joy. She'd taken a step towards him and he reached forward and lifted her from the ground, holding her in all four arms and purring in the closest thing he could produce to a tearful embrace. Lucille had returned it, and for a few moments they just took in the fact that they were both alright, the same size, and happier than they had been since meeting in the first place.

She handed Francoeur the suit and he purred gratefully. Her throat felt a slight lump at the sound she thought she'd never hear again, but she pushed it down gladly to help him into his clothing, as he'd only ever dressed himself on three occasions and still needed to master some of the basic mechanics.

"How do you feel?" she asked, looking up at his face again.

He made a humming sound and smiled. He still looked a little flustered, but he was not lying. He felt fine.

"Do you need anything?" she asked.

Francoeur shook his head slightly, then stopped as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him and nodded. Lucille was glad he needed something. It would give her something to do so she wouldn't seem to be hovering around him.

The truth was Lucille couldn't see herself letting Francoeur out of her sight for a while. When she thought he was dead, it was the worst day and a half in her life. She felt like his return had put a sturdy patch over the hole that had caused in her heart, but the hole was still there. She was just as flustered by the sudden change as she knew he must have been, but she knew one thing for sure. If she ever lost him again, that patch would be torn away and leave the hole bigger than even before.

"What is it?" she asked, looking around instinctively for a solution to the unknown problem, "Are you tired?"

Francoeur shook his head and made a negative sound. He looked down at himself and put a hand on his midsection uncomfortably.

"Hungry?" she asked again.

This time he nodded, and Lucille could have slapped herself like she slapped Raoul for not thinking of it sooner. During the wholeness of the adventure, she'd been too occupied with trying to keep him hidden or safe to think of anything else. It had simply never occurred to her that he needed something to eat, and he'd never even tried to ask.

"Oh, Francoeur!" she said, frustration and a tiny bit of grief apparent in her voice, "Have you not eaten this entire time?"

Francoeur looked a little startled at first by her tone, then thoughtful. He looked as if he was thinking back to the last time he remembered eating something. Finally, he made an incredulous facial expression and shook his head, as if he was as surprised by this as she. Lucille put a hand to her forehead and told Francoeur to stoop down, wrapping the scarf around his neck. She couldn't resist kissing the top of his head fondly when she was finished, and he purred again when he stood up. By that point, however, Lucille was already taking his hand and pulling him towards the door.

The others had been waiting in the reception room, and when she pulled Francoeur into view a reception is what he got. The flea smiled at his newfound friends, who all stood and came toward him excitedly. Raoul gave him a friendly clap on the arm and Emile took off his hat and described how wonderful it was that he was alright. Carlotta, who'd been surprisingly unsurprised to find out that her niece had been harboring a giant flea (indeed, after the whole display with Maynott, few in Paris would have been surprised), greeted Francoeur cordially, to which he chirped cordially back and she characteristically exclaimed "Perfect!"

Lucille, however, seemed _un_characteristically impatient with the greeting.

"Aunt Carlotta?" she asked, to get the woman's attention, "Is there anything in the kitchen that we can cook up quickly?"

"Well, I think so dear…" Carlotta said unsurely.

Lucille did not wait for another word. She just took Francoeur by the hand and pulled him towards the kitchen. The others would follow and they could continue their greeting while he ate something.

Raoul was the first to understand what she was doing. It seemed like their minds worked on the same level, making understanding each other slightly easier than understanding one of them would be to another person.

"You mean he hasn't eaten?" Raoul asked, following behind her immediately.

"Yes, and we're going to have to do something about that," she replied.

Francoeur made a flustered sound. She didn't understand, but she thought he might be embarrassed by all the attention. She paid it no heed, as attention was deserved when a friend was resurrected, and continued to pull him to the kitchen. Raoul ran ahead and opened the door.

"Food is an essential, big man," he said, obviously having interpreted Francoeur's chirp as an apology or excuse of some sort.

"That well may be," Emile's voice said from behind them all, "But I think he just wanted you to let go of his hand. He can walk to the kitchen for himself, after all."

Both Raoul and Lucille stopped short and Lucille released Francoeur's hand immediately, looking embarrassed herself now. Francoeur smiled bashfully and chirred a little thank you. Then he took the door above where Raoul was holding it and gestured that everyone should go through. The group chuckled before they all did exactly that.

When everyone was situated in the kitchen, the next problem was to figure out Francoeur's tastes. Lucille asked what he would like, but he couldn't give a satisfactory answer as he was not understood by most of the room's inhabitants and didn't understand the question in the first place. Lucille sighed and went to the icebox, opening it and gesturing to its contents.

"What do you want to eat?" she asked patiently, slower this time as if to help him understand.

Francoeur stared at the icebox and Lucille realized that this was probably the first time he'd seen one. He walked forward, approaching the contraption, and peered inside as if fascinated. The entire room smiled covertly, though they didn't have to bother hiding their expressions as Francoeur was not watching them anyway. He poked at some of the wrapped foodstuff inside the icebox and chirped curiously, pointing at it and looking up at Lucille.

"That's food," she said, pulling out one of the wax paper parcels and setting it on the counter behind her to demonstrate, "It's wrapped up to keep it clean."

Lucille untied the twine holding the paper around the food inside, which turned out to be a measurement of raw, ground beef. When she unfolded the paper to demonstrate its contents, Francoeur's expression became very hungry indeed. He chirped and pointed at the meat with his upper right hand, looking at Lucille with a wanting expression.

"You want this?" she asked, unsure, "It's raw. I will have to cook it first."

Francoeur didn't make any sign that he understood her, just gestured at the meat again and chirped questioningly. Lucille smiled and shrugged.

"Ok, if you don't mind waiting for me to…" she began, but was cut off by a pair of blue hands snatching the little parcel of meat right off the counter.

Before anyone could register anything to do, Francoeur was already eating the meat with a great deal of fervor. Both Raoul and Emile's faces turned from concern to disgust in a heartbeat, and Carlotta almost fainted. Lucille made an alarmed sound and tried to get the meat from his hands, but he pulled it away and gave her a look that lacked understanding. His mouth was full and there was a little bit of the beef blood that had escaped the side of his lips, but the wide-eyed expression still managed to impress Lucille as cute. She pointed to the meat and held out her hand, asking for it back. Francoeur looked reluctantly down as the parcel, which was half empty now, swallowed slowly and handed it back. His face was apologetic and he chirped sadly, obviously thinking he did something wrong. While Lucille certainly didn't want him to do it again, he had not done anything really severe. She smiled and reached out to him, patting at close to his shoulder as she could reach.

"It's alright, I'm not angry," she said, meeting his eyes, "You just didn't understand that it has to be cooked before you can eat it. It could make you sick."

"Not necessarily," Raoul said, and Lucille looked over to find that the other inhabitants' expressions had changed.

Raoul now looked thoughtful, an annoyingly endearing expression on him, and Emile looked concerned again. Carlotta had a hand over her mouth as if she was feeling a little ill.

"He is a flea, after all," Raoul continued when Lucille looked at him, "Before the change, he would have eaten blood and skin from Charles. Perhaps that seemed the more natural action to him."

"That doesn't mean that's what he should eat now," Lucille said, turning from Raoul and pulling a small pan out of the storage closet, "I'm sure if raw meat wouldn't hurt him, then cooked meat would have even less of a chance."

Raoul made a conceding sound and Francoeur watched the meat as she put it into the pan and began lighting the stove. The meat began to cook and Francoeur watched the entire process over her shoulder and head, chirping curiously. She smiled and browned the beef, finished by putting a little salt and pepper on it, then transferred it from the pan to the plate and held it out to Francoeur.

The flea looked at the plate curiously for a few moments, then tentatively picked up a small piece of the beef with his fingers. Lucille made a mental note to teach him about the use of utensils later, knowing that he couldn't learn everything at once. He ate the beef and hummed approvingly, though he didn't eat it with quite the amount of enthusiasm that he had at first. But she put all worries about that aside when he looked up at her and smiled, purring in gratitude again.

That night, she'd been awoken by a restless dream. She'd been running towards Maynott on the Eiffel tower again, but she couldn't move fast enough. He shot Raoul and Francoeur both, then disappeared, leaving nothing for her to do but weep. She woke up at that point, gratefully, but she didn't feel too inclined to sleep again. So she went down the stairs from the little rooms she, her aunt, Raoul, and now Francoeur lived in and made her way to the kitchen to have a cup of hot tea. When she entered, she turned the light on and was startled to see a form crouched over in the icebox. The large figure saw that light come on, heard her little noise of surprise, and bumped his head on the ceiling of the icebox when he startled, making a little chirping sound of his own. Francoeur's eyes poked out above the door and he chirped to her guiltily, though it sounded like the noise he made in greeting. Funny, he couldn't even speak French and she still knew when he was lying.

"What are you doing down here?" she asked, making sure she looked and sounded amused rather than angry.

Francoeur made a little hum that almost sounded like "nothing," and Lucille gave him a knowing smirk. She walked around him to look into the icebox and found an open, half eaten package of raw meat sitting right before him. She also noticed that the rest of his face was rather covered in the meat's remnants. Apparently he'd only let her see his eyes for a reason. She smiled even wider and knelt beside him, placing a hand on his arm, as his hands were a mess of raw meat.

"Do you like it that way better than when it was cooked?" she asked plainly, being sure to speak slowly for him so he could understand a little better.

Francoeur looked guilty, but he nodded his head slowly. She smiled again.

"Then you can eat it like that," she said, and he looked up with wide eyes, "If you really like it better, it's probably like what Raoul said. Maybe that's what you're supposed to eat."

Francoeur made a sound that was between belief and hope, as if asking if she really meant it. Lucille smiled and nodded.

"It's alright," she said.

Francoeur smiled and purred again. She smiled back and stood, taking out a plate from the pantry.

"However, if you're going to be eating anything," she said, thinking now was as good a time as any, "I'm going to have to teach you proper manners. Come here, wash yourself up in the sink, and we'll learn about forks, spoons, and plates, ok?"

* * *

**Lol, poor Francoeur! He'd have his carnivorous instincts and tastes, even if he is one giant sweety. But that's ok, as long as he learns how to eat without making a mess of himself. **

**I suspect that he would be able to eat more than just raw meat. And, as there's a lot more variety than he had when he was just feeding off of Charles, he'll have the chance. But he is a flea, and raw meat and blood would be his preferred cuisine. It's a good thing he landed amongst understanding friends who take him as he is. **

**Thanks for reading guys, and thanks for the idea! It was really fun to think about!**


	17. Intelligence

**Ok, so we're jumping forward again to the beginning of the war for this one, a while after they pick him up. I had been thinking about what a post-war Raoul would be like, and this is what came to mind. **

* * *

There was no exaggeration in saying that Francoeur was smarter than the average flea. In fact, it could be said that he was smarter than the average human, but that notion was, while likely true, debatable. Raoul thought about this quite often. Sure, he knew that Francoeur was smart the first time he met him. But there were certain, shining moments that showed off exactly how smart. He felt like he'd missed a lot of them.

It had been a few months since Francoeur and Lucille had come to meet him on the troop train and Francoeur had carried him back to the car. He didn't like the think about what little he remembered of the experience. He hadn't been in a particularly good place then, mentally or physically. And Raoul had always been a man to live in the present, or, preferably, the future. He was an inventor and a creator, and his mind was both his greatest advantage and his greatest downfall. Advantage because all his most difficult problems had been solved by thinking. Downfall because he tended to start thinking about difficult things and not stop thinking about them until the problem was solved. And the problem that was currently at the forefront of his mind, though many others jangled their way around in there, was Francoeur.

He hadn't been able to spend much time with him, even before the trip separated Lucille and Francoeur from him and the war separated him from them. He felt guilty about that now. He didn't know why, as Francoeur hadn't seemed to be lacking at all in friends or companions. But Raoul had been given a little time to think about the people he cared most about, and he realized that one of them was the giant flea he'd accidentally helped to create. And now that he'd been…released from the war, he had the rare chance to make up for past mistakes. So he approached Francoeur when he came to the breakfast table in the morning, after Lucille had already left the house they were renting for the second job she'd acquired.

"Hey buddy," he said, positioning himself beside Francoeur, who was reading the morning newspaper and, amusingly enough, drinking coffee as he ate a plate of raw bacon.

Francoeur chirred happily, putting the paper down to look at Raoul when he greeted him. Apparently he hadn't heard him come in.

"Anything worth reading in the paper?" Raoul asked, smiling a little.

Francoeur made a rather melancholic expression and shook his head. Raoul didn't even glance down at the paper that Francoeur had so willingly discarded. There was only one subject in the news lately, and it wasn't either of their favorite.

"I see," Raoul said, looking around the room, "Well, instead of reading it, why don't you and I find something better to do? I could use the fresh air."

Francoeur's expression changed to concern and he chirped, cocking his head to the side. Raoul still didn't understand Francoeur the way Lucille now did, or the way Emile instinctively did, but he knew what that meant.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said, his old sarcasm covering a bitterness he didn't want to show, "I can handle a trip outside."

Francoeur made a conceding sound, smiling slightly in surrender. He still looked concerned, but he stood and opened the kitchen door on the opposite side of the room, which was closer to the front door than the one Raoul had entered through. Raoul passed the threshold and moved quickly, forcing Francoeur to grab his hat and scarf as they went to the front door. Raoul waited at the door for him and when he arrived, Francoeur opened the door and the two went out together.

London was a beautiful city. It was a rare semi-sunny day, with the light clouds overhead giving no threat of rain for once. Francoeur walked with Raoul down the sidewalk, carrying an umbrella that he had grabbed on their rushed exit. Raoul smiled slightly. It seemed Emile had rubbed off on him, with his "be prepared for anything" philosophy. He'd have to teach him the "figure it out when you get there" philosophy that he himself lived by someday, see which one won Francoeur's favor.

"It's a beautiful day outside," he said, looking up at his large companion.

Francoeur looked back down at him and smiled, chirping happily. He made an inquisitory sound and gestured towards Raoul, seeming to ask if Raoul needed any assistance.

"No, no," Raoul said pleasantly, "I can get on well enough by myself. Can't always have someone around to help me, after all."

Francoeur nodded in agreement and let the statement stand, walking beside Raoul in silence for a time. The sun actually showed through these clouds, and it was glorious to see its rare appearance. Raoul led the way resolutely, having been to the nearby market at his insistence as soon as he was mobile. He wanted to know where he was and how to get to everything he might need, after all. And, as he was the only member of their household that couldn't get a job easily, he had repeatedly asked to take on the job of running the errands instead. Lucille, the wonderful, stubborn woman, persistently refused to allow it as she swore he wasn't well enough to be doing anything of the sort. Raoul doubted, sometimes, that he would ever be considered well enough by her or anyone else who looked at him. And that's why he had to do it.

It had been a spectacular argument that had led to his discovery of the market street. He still smiled when he looked back on it. Lucille had been so furious, he was sure that if her argument had not been for his welfare she would have killed him. Raoul for his own part had considered several remarks that would have crossed a line they'd never passed, into actually hurtful territory. He and Lucille had always had an invisible set of boundaries to their little spats. Insults were fine, but they never deliberately said or did something with the purpose of hurting the other. Not that it didn't happen accidentally, but it made apologizing easier if "I didn't mean it" was actually truthful.

In the end, they'd been so angry with each other that it was impossible to say anything that would not have been needlessly hurtful, so they said nothing at all. They'd gone two days without saying a word to one another, communicating through the rather interesting facial expressions they shared over the breakfast table. It got to the point that Francoeur chirped nervously whenever they were in the same room. When she decided this had gone on long enough, Lucille left Raoul a note that he still kept safely stored in his dresser, not that he would ever tell her that. It read:

_Dear Raoul,_

_You're an idiot. And I'm an idiot too, because I love you for it. I can't say that I want you to go anywhere alone yet, but perhaps I can show you the market street tomorrow. And maybe when you're a little stronger, you can go there on your own. But you better leave when that is up to me to decide. Or else._

_Lucille_

As they approached the shops, Raoul glanced up at Francoeur and began another conversation, trying to be as casual as he could.

"You know, we never really got to spend a lot of time together before, just the two of us," he began.

Francoeur gave a questioning chirp.

"I mean, sure, we lived in the same building and all," he said, trying to explain himself and feeling the idea he was trying to express get further with every moment, "We just never, you know, purposely went and did something just to hang out. I mean, you would run errands with me sometimes, but that was before Catherine was ready. After that, the only time we really saw each other was in the hall or at meals. It's not that I wanted it to be that way, I just didn't realize it was that way at the time. And it was. So, because we never saw each other…accept when we did…besides the…what I'm trying to say is…"

Francoeur chirped and put a glove on Raoul's shoulder, stopping him. Apparently, as he'd been talking, he'd moved a little faster subconsciously. Raoul stopped and looked up at Francoeur again. Francoeur chirped, squeezing his shoulder, then pointed to the nearby drugstore, inside of which there was an ice cream bar. Raoul saw what he was thinking and smiled, nodding. The two went inside and had a scoop of ice cream each. They reminisced (or Raoul reminisced verbally and Francoeur listened and smiled) about the first time Francoeur had eaten ice cream and the amusing things that had happened sometimes when they were on errands together. Then they just sat in happy silence for a little while, content just to be in each other's company. Granted, Raoul didn't usually like silence because it made him feel awkward. But with Francoeur, silence was a language all its own that never seemed to lose its clarity.

They paid their tab and left the drugstore smiling. Raoul had begun telling another story, as Francoeur was a great listener and Raoul really did enjoy talking, when a couple of the kids from inside the drugstore followed them out and tailed them for a few yards. Raoul noticed, with some amusement, that Francoeur didn't even know they were there. He stopped suddenly and turned, startling both the giant flea and the boys behind them. But he turned with a smile, so the kids didn't run away after he startled them.

"Is there something you gents want?" Raoul asked in accented English, smirking sarcastically.

The boys looked at each other for a few moments, then back at him. Raoul waited for them to make their choice. He knew they wanted something if they were determined enough to follow two strangers from the drugstore. He remembered being a boy that age, he practically still was a kid in most respects, and so he waited with a welcoming and good humored face for them to answer. After a while, the elder took a step forward. He was probably around seven, making the littler one behind him closer to five.

"We were just wondering about your cart," the boy said, looking slightly nervous at revealing his motives, "We were wondering, if we asked nice, if you might let us ride it?"

Raoul didn't really know what to say to that. He looked down at himself when they gestured to his "cart" and glanced back at them. The chair he was now confined to for purpose of mobility was indeed something he would have been curious about at that age, and he'd been a precocious child too so he might even have asked about it as they did. They wanted to take a ride in his wheelchair. He thought for a minute, then looked the elder in the eye and spoke again in the earnest tone of someone who views children as intelligent.

"Well, I would have no problem with that," he explained, "Accept that I need it to move around. See the problem?"

The boy got a thoughtful look to his little face, blond eyebrows furrowing in childish thought. He nodded, and the littler one behind him imitated the elder's motion. Raoul nodded back to them and smiled again.

"I take it you two are brothers?" he asked, getting nods in return, "May I ask your names?"

"I'm Henry," the elder said, then pointing to the smaller one with a thumb over his shoulder, "That's Jeff."

"Raoul," he replied, reaching out a hand to shake theirs after engaging the brakes to make sure he stayed stationary, "And this is my friend Francoeur."

"Pleasure to meet you," the boys said in unison, with the obviously rehearsed tone of voice that suggested lessons in etiquette.

Raoul smiled again. He'd always loved kids. They were little explosions of ideas that came unguarded and uncensored. He'd thought on more than one occasion that if he had retained even half of the ideas he went through every day as a child, he'd be a famous inventor now. These boys reminded him of that fondness.

"Good to meet you too," he said, "Next time you're curious about something, you can just ask me, oui?"

The boys nodded with wide eyes.

"Now, I have to return home," he said, giving them a dismissive look, "Au revoir."

"Bye," the boys replied quietly.

Raoul turned away and heard them begin to walk away. He put the thoughts that came unbidden at the mention of his chair forcibly into the back of his mind and locked them there. They were just kids, they hadn't meant anything by what they did other than the honest hope of getting a ride. Memories came unbidden and he pushed them away too. That was one problem with having a mind such as his; he thought about a problem until it was solved. Some things, though, couldn't be solved and he could never seem to let go of them. His face only had a momentary lapse in its forced calm as he sorted this matter out internally, and in a blink it was gone and he was wearing a sarcastic smirk again.

He pushed himself wordlessly back down the road they'd taken to get to the drug store, knowing Francoeur would follow. It was uphill now, though, and he remembered it had been a slight downward incline the whole way there. Steeling himself, he began pushing a little harder to keep from rolling backwards when he suddenly began moving forward a little faster and without the aid of his hands. He gave the tall figure who'd slipped behind him a somewhat displeased look and received a friendly purr in response. His expression lightened, even though he'd come to realize that Francoeur made that sound when he wanted someone to let him do something he was being told not to do. He leaned back into the chair somewhat grumpily and huffed, which only earned a somewhat amused sound from Francoeur.

When they arrived at home, he was a bit more tired than he had expected to be. He wouldn't admit to himself that this was because Lucille had been right that he couldn't make it to and from the market street alone yet, saying that it was just the ice cream rush wearing off. When they got back to the house, however, he took the wheels of his chair back into his control again and sped a little away from Francoeur, turning on a dime to face his friend. The he spoke in an unconcerned tone.

"You wanna do that again tomorrow, maybe?" he asked, raising and eyebrow in mock unconcern.

Francoeur made a humming sound and nodded, smiling slightly at the sarcasm.

"Good," Raoul replied, then he wheeled himself off down the hall to his bedroom, driving his wheelchair as he'd always driven his car, at breakneck speed. Francoeur watched him and smiled after him, the concern in his eyes never visible to his friend as Raoul went into his room and shut the door.

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**Thanks for reading! Hope my characterization came off the way it was supposed to. Leave me a review if you liked or even if you didn't, as I take them all into account. Loves to my peeps!**


	18. Real and Imagined

**Ok, so I got the comment that someone wanted to see Francoeur's first nightmare. I hadn't even thought of that! The poor thing, he wouldn't even be able to describe it! But, now that the idea was in my head, I had to write it. ****Thanks for the great idea, it's something that makes him all the more real and an angle I'd never thought of. If anyone has any other ideas that they want to see me write, I'd be more than happy to take them! :)**

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Francoeur's first dream happened before he'd even called himself Francoeur. In fact, it happened to him the first time he knew of that he'd slept.

He had jumped from rooftop to rooftop for hours, and had earned more than one scream as he did so. He didn't know why they made sounds like that only when they saw him, but he didn't like it. He'd connected that the sound was the result of the creatures seeing him, however, and so tried to stay out of sight. He stayed on top of one building which had a short wall around the roof that he could hide behind and stayed there for the rest of night.

The first sunrise of his new life was something he would never forget. It was brilliant and beautiful, with so many different shades of pink that he had never seen before. But after the colors began to fade, the light of the sun came out fully and Francoeur realized that he was trapped. If he moved now, someone was bound to see him and the noises would start up again. This became even more apparent as more of the other creatures that screamed when they saw him were coming out by the hour. They seemed to favor the light. So he hunkered down on the roof, prepared to stay there as long as there were creatures around to see him. Then a door opened on the other side of the roof, swinging up as it had been flat, and one of the creatures poked its head through it.

His eyes widened as the creature screamed and he jumped in panic, letting out a frightened hiss of his own. All the creatures down on the street started running and screaming as soon as he did so, and he sought for a shadow or a dark place where he could hide. He found an alley that was mostly abandoned, accept for large animal tied to a cart. He leaned against the wall and breathed fast; he was terrified that one of those things would find him and start screaming again. The animal looked around, hearing the noise he made when his feet moved over the ground, and it turned enough to take notice of him. His eyes widened and he held up his hands gently, as if begging the animal not to rat him out. But the horse was, at heart, a prey animal that had never seen a larger or more unusual predator in its life. It made an unearthly sound that only a panicked horse can produce, then bolted. He jumped away, knowing there would be more creatures and screams coming after the animal. He was right; as soon as he took off, he heard a creature yelling.

"Mon Dieu! It's not human!"

Francoeur had not shown himself for the rest on that day, having found a rooftop with suitable hiding places and no doors. At least he knew now what they were called, human. He didn't know what to make of them, but the sounds they made were not all screams. Some sounds that he heard while he was hiding on this new roof were friendly, some were grouchy, some calm and some irritable. They all followed a strange pattern and he could see them using these sounds to communicate with one another. So he listened and tried to remember the most common sounds he heard, learning their meanings by context when he could.

After a while, he began to feel weary. It had never happened to him before, and for a little while he was as curious about this as any other new discovery he had made. But it got to the point that weariness overcame curiosity, and he curled his legs around himself. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was warm on his shell. He stretched slightly, curled again, and closed his eyes.

He didn't remember how, but suddenly he found himself back at the first place he remembered, with mist surrounding him and plants everywhere under the glass ceiling. He looked around, curious, when the little man he had seen there suddenly yelled, drawing his attention to him. He tried jumping again, but this time he just hit the glass and fell back down, not breaking through to freedom or even cracking the place where he knew he'd broken loose. The man continued to scream and then there was another, the old lady he'd seen listening to music in her home. Then came another, and another, until every human that had screamed at him was present in the room, yelling in unison and without apparently needing to breathe. He hissed in fear and tried to jump again, but he couldn't escape. They started to come closer to him, still screaming. That's when he started and woke up on the roof, twilight quickly settling into darkness.

He looked around for the humans, the terror still present. But he was alone on the roof, and nobody below him had noticed he was there. He didn't know what had just happened to him, but he didn't want it to happen again.

* * *

When he fell asleep to the sound of the woman's voice the next night, wrapped in warmth and lying on a soft seat, Francoeur had a different sort of rest than the first he had experienced. It was comfortable and he felt safe, so that probably had something to do with it. All he remembered when he woke up in the pink tinted dressing room, blankets still wrapped around him, was that he had been talking to the woman who'd taken him in, and she'd talked back to him with the same sounds he made. He could understand her completely! He didn't remember what she'd said, but she understood him!

When the woman moved a little, he looked up towards her with a friendly chirp, wishing her a good morning.

"Oh, you're awake!" she'd said, smiling and turning to him, "I think I've found something that might work for your disguise."

He chirped a question, asking her to use the chirping sounds as she had been, but she didn't seem to understand.

"Why don't you come this way," she said, gesturing with her hands, "We'll see if it fits you."

Francoeur realized that the woman still didn't understand what he was saying to her and he didn't understand most of her sounds either. He didn't know why or how, but somehow he's imagined all of it. Confused, he stood and tried to do as she wanted, thinking about the scary screaming people that he had seen the last time he slept. When he woke up from that, there were no people around him and he was in no danger. Perhaps, he thought sadly to himself, it was the same way with the vague memory he had of he and the woman understanding each other. He would have thought more about it, but she had finished helping him into human clothes and was now fussing over him as he sat at the vanity. He'd just noticed a particularly interesting metal object with long, thin spikes that made an interesting sound when he plucked them, and improvising a song on it became more entertaining that thinking about the strange things that he saw when he slept.

* * *

Francoeur hadn't had another dream after that until he shrunk and was brought back to his big size again. He was, understandably, exhausted, and after an enthusiastic greeting from his friends and an introduction to human food, Lucille began to notice it. So off he went to bed and not a word would be said against it. Francoeur smiled. He knew that Lucille cared a lot about what happened to him, but it was somewhat funny how bossy she got when she wanted to take care of him. He'd gone with her without much protest, despite the fact that he would have wished to spend a little more time with the others. But Lucille said they'd have plenty of time for that later.

She'd shown him up the stairs to the hallway with the bedrooms. There were four in all, two on either side. She opened the door to one of the rooms and said it was his. Inside the tiny room were a bed and a simple little wardrobe. He looked around, discovering that he could cross the room in five paces and there was a window on the opposite wall. He couldn't stand to his full height in the room, but that was probably because the building planners had not had seven foot residents in mind when the L'Oiseau Rare was built. He smiled and hummed at Lucille gratefully from the window.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said, smiling back, "And get some rest."

Francoeur nodded, understanding the point but not most of the words. Well, at least now he knew that he would have time to work on that. He took the step needed to get to the bed and removed his clothing, as he guessed they'd be somewhat restricting to sleep in and he didn't want to damage them. Then he lay down on his side on the bed, curling his legs to himself and purring contentedly.

He was unclear on how, but this time he found himself at the stage where he and his friends had tried to trick everyone into believing he was dead. In front of him, where the audience had been, were the screaming people. He tensed in panic and remembered that Lucille had been in his arms when he did this, so he looked down. When he did, Lucille was looking at him exactly the way she had when she first woke up after fainting when they met. She screamed and slapped his face, and he dropped her, stunned, just as he did when she had done that before.

As soon as he dropped Lucille, he was no longer at the stage. Instead, he was at the Eiffel Tower, and he couldn't move as his legs were weak. He knew he shouldn't be feeling this anymore, that the potion had made him big again and the others told him he wouldn't shrink. But he could barely move and it felt just as it had that day. Maynott jumped from the airship, only this time there was no Lucille or Raoul. He was just sitting there, alone and helpless, and the large man towered over him. That didn't make any sense, he didn't remember Maynott being that big, but he was at least a foot taller than Francoeur would have been if he was standing and he continued to seem bigger and bigger. The giant Maynott laughed maniacally and raised his gun. Francoeur saw his finger tightening on the trigger and let out a sound halfway between a hiss and a low chirr, terrified and unable to move.

Then he fell out of his bed and woke when he hit the floor. The window let in no light, and the room was pitch black. He scrambled back towards the wall, hyperventilating, and the door flung itself open. Lucille ran in, looking alarmed, with Raoul coming to the door a moment later wielding one of his shoes threateningly.

"Francoeur?" she asked, running over to kneel beside him, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

Francoeur was still shaking, and he let out a sound that even he hadn't heard before, a quivering, hissing moan that translated to "no, I'm not alright." Lucille reached out and took his face in her hands, looking at his eyes.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, her own frantic tone still evident.

Francoeur made a high whistle and shook his head.

"What happened?" she asked, looking him over thoroughly to be sure he wasn't hurt, just in case.

Francoeur made a pathetic sound, knowing now that what had just happened wasn't real. It was just one of those strange sleep experiences. Knowing it didn't seem to calm the pace of his heart, however, or make him any less afraid of the things that had happened. Not to mention the helpless feeling he got when he realized that he couldn't tell Lucille what was wrong.

Lucille looked at the bed, the covers pulled half off it as they'd been wrapped around Francoeur when he fell. She deduced what had happened and moved a little closer.

"You fell out of the bed," she said, holding his shoulder with her right hand now, while the other remained on his face, "Where you having a bad dream?"

Francoeur made a questioning sound, leaning towards Lucille for comfort. She pulled him into an embrace and started explaining.

"A nightmare," she said, patting his head gently as it rested on her shoulder, "It's just a dream, but sometimes they can be scary. Don't worry, it wasn't real. It was just a dream."

Just a dream. Not real. Francoeur signed a leaned a little closer to Lucille, wrapping his arms around her. "Dream" must be what those sleeping experiences were called. "It was just a dream" must mean that this happened to Lucille too, since she knew what had scared him so. He hugged her because, yes, he was still terrified, but he also didn't like the thought of her ever having to face the giant Maynott all alone.

"So…everything…ok then?" Raoul said drowsily from the doorway, still holding the shoe like a weapon and clearly not fully awake.

"Everything's fine, Raoul," Lucille answered amusedly, "Go back to bed."

Raoul just said ok in a sleepy tone and started walking back towards his room. Lucille smiled and shook her head as he left, then pushed a little away from Francoeur to look him in the eyes.

"Would you like me to stay here for a little while?" she asked, giving him an understanding expression.

Francoeur purred that yes, yes he would. She hugged him again and then encouraged him to lie back down on the bed. When he did so, she sat beside him and the edge of the mattress. She started singing La Seine like she had that night in the dressing room, and Francoeur felt himself begin to calm instantly. When she finished, she pulled the blankets over Francoeur and stood to go back to her room, saying he could come and wake her if he needed her. He chirped gratefully and laid his head on his pillow. It took some time, but he fell asleep again, and this time he was not confronted by any screaming people or ten foot, gun wielding maniacs. His last thought, as he drifted off into slumber, was the hope that the happy dreams were more frequent than the bad ones.

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**And that's this chapter, again thanks for the idea! I love writing about things like this, that really outline the character's perspective. Two thumbs up to the guest reviewer who suggested it, and I hope you get to read this!**


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